


Tuck Sinn

by DeeDrabble



Category: Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain, Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, M/M, tom sawyer - Freeform, tuck sinn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 34,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeDrabble/pseuds/DeeDrabble
Relationships: Huckleberry Finn/Tom Sawyer, Tom Sawyer/Becky Thatcher
Kudos: 9





	1. Beginning

"And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day."  
-Mark Twain, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer


	2. Chapter 2

"Tom."  
No answer.  
"Tom!"  
Again, no answer.  
"Tom, Becky's here to see you!"  
No answer-- maybe Aunt Polly's voice had become too frail, too quiet and weak and old. Becky smiled down at her. Everyone smiled down at her, now: she had become short and slumped, and the children, who had once been half Aunt Polly's height, were now taller than she was.

"I do apologize, dear. I suppose I should go up and get him for you." Aunt Polly smiled tiredly.  
"Oh, it's no bother, really." Becky gently laid a hand on Aunt Polly's shoulder, taking a step forward. "I'll get him." Becky said. Aunt Polly nodded and turned, slowly leaving the room, her footsteps as light as if she were hardly there.

Becky walked up the stairs, smoothing down her cream-colored dress. Her steps were light on the old flooring, and still the steps creaked under her. She could hear Sid shuffling around in his room-- and could hear Tom doing the same-- as she walked down the hallway. She came up to Tom's door and knocked lightly. The old door was rough against her knuckles, and the voice of the wood was hollow and soft. She waited.

Tom opened the door, his brown eyes meeting Becky's. A smile came upon his face, then.  
"Well hey, Becky." Tom said, leaning against the door frame. Even with his slouching, he was a few inches taller than her, looking down happily into her eyes.  
"Aunt Polly yelled your name quite a few times, Tom." She said. "You must've been thinking on something awful hard." Tom shrugged nonchalantly, a half-smile coming to his face. "Just thinking about you, Becky, and then here you are." He moved out of the doorway, gently pulling Becky into his room.  
"Whatcha comin' here for, though? Your place is much better." Tom smiled that way he does, and Becky smiled right back.

"My dad's at home, and I believe you wouldn't want to see him, now would you?" Becky said sweetly. Tom laughed lightly, not disagreeing, and pulled Becky in close.  
"I'd go anywhere with you, Becky." He grinned, face close to hers, and he could see her face relax comfortably.  
"Well, that's good news, Tom. Really, I came here to tell you something." She said, smoothing her clothes. He could see her eyes moving around nervously through his unkempt room. He took her warm hands, stopping them from messing the edges of her dress.  
"What's up?" He said gently.  
"Well," She sighed. "I-- I heard there's that fair coming into town."  
"Oh, Becky, I'd... love to go with you." Tom let go of her hands. He ran a hand through his hair. She could hear something else in his voice, and she hardly waited. "But—"  
"And I know you've stopped your adventures for years now..." Becky picked up again once she heard the 'but'. He always said it, always backed out of her plans. He hardly liked to leave the house, really, besides hanging out with their friends at the river. She sighed, absentmindedly tugging on Tom's worn shirt. "I miss what we used to do, going adventuring. It's half-witted and gets me into trouble, but Tom, it's fun. And you've been needing fun." Her voice dropped to an already disappointed tone. She could see in his face he was finding an escape. He always was.

"I'm awfully grateful you're thinking of me, Becky, but--"  
"You have to go, Tom. You say no every time."  
"...What about a trip to the river? To the market?"  
"The fair is in three weeks or so. We can go to both of those places in the meantime." Becky said.  
"A walk instead?" He said, and she shook her head. She wasn't usually so direct. But a smile came to her face, seeing how he was defeated.  
"I'll drag you out there myself— Tom, we'll have fun."  
The last time he had been to a fair, Huckleberry Finn had been there with him. Causing trouble. He wanted to hold out for his best friend to come back-- he hadn't wanted to write over every memory just yet.  
But Becky wouldn't understand, and he owed it to her.  
"Alright, Becky." He pulled her in closer. "I'll do it for you." He mumbled into her hair. A swirl was already starting in his stomach, though.  
"Thank you, Tom." She said and kissed him. Tom's stomach turned unsurely, but he had already agreed.  
"Let's go on that walk." Tom sighed, and Becky took his hand, walking with him out of his room, down the creaky stairs, and out of the old warped house.


	3. Chapter 3

Going through town always reminded Tom of everything he had, and all the good that had come out of his life. Being in the sun outside made him feel warm, awake, alive.

"Are we going to the river?" Becky asked, looking at Tom.

"I'll go wherever you go, Becky." He bumped shoulders with her.

"That's a yes, then?" She laughed, wind catching the curls of her hair. Yellow light streamed into their eyes all the way there.

The town had stayed the same since Tom was a kid. That was alright, though—when he looked at different street corners, he could remember all the times he spent having fun: being with friends, taking Becky on walks. All he remembered now were the good things. He had pushed The Cave out of his mind years ago.

"What time do you gotta be home by?" Tom asked, turning to her again.

"In time for supper—I just want to show you something." Becky said, quickening her voice and her pace, pulling Tom along the sunset-lit sidewalks.

"Show me the river? I've seen it a billion times, Becky." Tom laughed, letting himself be pulled along. Sun was in his eyes and glowing against the edges of Becky's hair now, and everything looked gilded.

"Yes, of course, but we hardly go there together." Becky said, pulling him along still. He didn't get her rush—it was just an old polluted river. But if Becky wanted to see it for the billionth time, he would go with her.

The sun was setting quickly.

"We're gonna miss it, Tom." Becky said hurriedly, walking quicker now. Tom slowed her down with his hand in hers.

"There's always tomorrow, Becky." He watched her intriguingly, seeing her hope and thoughts come through in her eyes.

She turned to him quickly. "Tom, with you, it's always tomorrow." She said. She sighed— the words had such a harshness to them. That made Tom's eyebrows furrow, made him look down.

"Well, shucks, Becky... Alright-- we'll hurry if you wanna." He said. Becky squeezed his hand.

"I didn't mean..." Becky looked away, too. Sighed. She must've caught the reaction on his face. Tom just shook his head, letting his free hand run through his hair. He swung the arm holding on to hers.

"Let's get going, Becky. Time's wasting!" He let the moment go. Let his face relax into that smile of his. She nodded and smiled, letting it go too. They quickened their steps towards the river.

A moment or a few passed, and the brief disappointment to excitement dimmed. Their steps filled the air and cleared their thoughts, and then slowed; they were almost there.

They walked down the dirt path, dust pulling up as their feet skidded across the ground. Tom took her hand again, their fingers pulling and curling together.

The sun was in his eyes. A gold poured over the top halves of trees and the edges of their skin— it would set, and it would be night and then another day at school. That was okay, though. He had Becky to depend on.

"Tom, you never want to go anywhere. To that fair, to my house, to school..." Becky said quietly. She was treading on a new topic. On his growing absences. Tom closed his eyes for a while as they walked, eventually opening them and looking away from her. He didn't care to talk about school.

"I just don't like school, Becky." His voice was a sigh, a tired exhale, masked with lightness, with a bump of their shoulders.

"Alright, Tom. But you know how important it is to me that you stay in school."

Tom nodded, squeezing her hand lightly. "...I'll do what I can."

"We're here. Look at it." She said. They were standing before the Mississippi river, now. Tom still looked at her, though. He saw how brightly the setting sun glowed on her face, and wanted to capture it all in his mind. She eventually looked back at him, and Tom smiled.   
She was all he needed. Her blue eyes reflecting the soft lights around them; her light hair in a breeze, curled down her back. That same, reliable face he's seen for years. It's what he waited to see every day since he first met her.

"You're missing the sunset." She whispered. The sun's reflection was in her eyes.

"I've seen that sunset every day of my life, Becky. It's you I can't get enough of." He said just as softly. A redness and a smile came onto her face. She looked down, and her hair fell across her shoulders. The sun shone fire on the edges of each curl.

He felt that same glow in his chest. That fiery, yellow-orange, tangerine feeling. She nodded and looked around. Her hand and his, together, made him stop worrying, stop caring about everything that didn't really matter to him: school, getting into trouble, that fair coming up.

"Let me walk you home, Becky." He said. She smiled at him and then the breeze and the sun went right through him and into his heart.

"Look at it first." Becky said, nudging him, and he did. He looked out onto the Mississippi river.   
The sun made ripples across it. The sun made each small wave reflect light. Like a mirror broken on a floor; like stitches of shiny silver weaved into fabric. The sun added more hues, turning it into a patchwork of oranges and pinks and blues.

"It's nice." He said. That same river his whole life, but it looked different now. The colors of it all glowed in his eyes. He'd never really taken the time to see it all like this before-- Becky made it happen. Becky made things special.

The sun set. Blue turned to gold and red and gradient rainbows, and then dark. Night was rising, turning the sky a blue to a navy purple. Stars started to show up.

"Are you glad we came here?" She asked. He nodded, looking at her again.

"Thank you, Becky." He smiled. She grinned back.

"But we're still going to that fair." She said.

He let a small laugh out, rolling his eyes. "Even if I have to drag you by the ear," she pulled her hand from his and made a quick movement towards him, and he leaned away with another outburst of a laugh.

She shook her head, closed her eyes, and retook his hand. "I'm serious, though." She said, amusement still in her voice.

"Nah, it won't come to that, Becky. If you go, then I'll go." He said. She nodded, a pleasantness residing in her expression. "Let me take you home." He said, bumping shoulders with her.

"Okay. Thanks for coming here." She said.

"Thanks for showing me." He said. They turned away from the sun, away from the river. Started back towards their houses. The night was calm and smooth, and they didn't mind the mosquitoes or the noises of boats on the river. Their faces glowed even past the sun setting, and their hands were warm in each other's grasp.

They walked along dirt and grass and gravel until they got to her house.   
Her fence was cleanly whitewashed, and the outside of her house had no chips or warps or scratches on it; It was as perfect as her.

"See you, Becky." Tom said, holding her hand as long as he could until she walked away, back inside her house, closing the door. He stood outside for a moment longer, feeling the soft air against his warm skin. He breathed in the summery air, looking at how the light shone on her perfect house.

And he walked away, back to his own old creaky one. But he didn't mind— his had just as much love inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Tom got up before the sun. Despite it being for school, he could never get used to it.   
Today, he didn't mind, though. As he got dressed and got his schoolbag, he thought of the past few days. Of staring at the river.   
And this tiredness in his eyes, the emptiness of his stomach, didn't seem so big. Becky made everything worth it.

Tom walked quietly out of his room and down the stairs. He moved softly down them, stepping around the creaky parts towards the kitchen. He tore off a piece of bread Aunt Polly had made the other day and headed towards the front door, chewing.

Opening the door-- the sun was just now rising. He stepped out-- greys melted into light blue and lime and pink. Clouds were still dark, still containing their night sharpness. Oranges faded into the sky.   
He closed the door softly behind him, heading down the path towards the school building— His body was so tired he could hardly swallow the bread, but still he continued.

Tom saw Becky and caught up to her. They smiled and walked together, silent in the early morning, their feet sliding and stumbling through grass and dirt and gravel. As long as he had Becky, this was worth it. He had to remember. He didn't want to lose that.

He finished his bread on the way. The sun was at a low burn, now, and the sky was finally a white blue. They got to the school's entrance and went inside.

The schoolyard had gotten bigger the past few years. Donations from touring rich Virginians and other patrons had come in all through Kansas and Missouri, and more kids had come into town all at different ages. And so they built another building and bought more schoolbooks and got a few more teachers. Now there was one building with books for smaller kids and another for the older kids. More land was set aside for the school, too— Now there was a courtyard of sorts where the kids could go for lunch and for a break between classes.

During break, Tom sat in this courtyard under a tree, staring at the bright sky. It was more vibrant now; the hidden light behind the blue was piercing his sight when he looked up, but still he continued, ignoring the burn and squint in his eyes, trying to hold the colors in his vision. Trying to see that big bright sky for as long as he could.

"Tom, what are you doing?" Becky came up to him, standing over and staring down at his figure. She blocked his view of the sky.

"I'm relaxing."

"Our next class starts in a few minutes." She smiled, kneeling down next to him on the grass. She took his hand in hers.

"Alright." He said. Getting up so early was tiring-- he needed this break from sitting at a desk for so long. He needed to see the leaves above him, and to see the sky.

"I'm going to go stand with Joe and Amy." Becky stood up, brushing off her skirt. She motioned with her arm towards the other side of the courtyard.

"I'll join you, then." Tom said. He got up with Becky, wiping dirt and grass off his back.   
"Hold on. We want you to look presentable, Tom." Becky said quietly, smiling. She lifted her hands, helping him, picking out blades of grass from his hair.

They walked towards a large circle of people. Amy Lawrence and Joe Harper were in the group, all talking, all smiling, all waiting for the bell. Tom walked behind Becky, staring out at the sky. Clouds made a marbleized pattern of blues in the air, from white to teal, all soft shades. He got to the group a few seconds after Becky, and by then the schoolteachers started calling them all back in with bells and shouts. Everyone reluctantly went.

Tom sighed and kept looking at the sky as he walked. He wished he could watch it longer. Becky stayed behind and took his hand, leading him along back inside. It felt trapped in in there. Out here, seeing all of the blinding hues of blue, was better-- especially when Becky was here, holding his hand. Out here, he could stare at the sky and forget everything else. Out here, he wouldn't get beat for saying something wrong.   
But he went, dragged along, back into the schoolhouse for more hours of math, reading, and history.

Afterwards, everyone left the school building quickly. The sky had faded down to a hot blue, to a settled-in shade that was always there in the afternoons. The sun had turned from its warm white and rainbow rise into a burning yellow, stuck in place and heating their skin.

Tom and Becky left the school building together, holding hands. The day had gone by quickly— he usually tried his best to block it all out. To forget his embarrassments and move on, one day after the other.

"...Did we have homework?" Tom asked, and Becky shook her head. Her curls of hair swung with the motion.

"No, we finished it in class." She responded. "I did, at least." People moved past them, pushing and pulling around them like wind currents. Amy and Joe and their other friends were part of the crowd, and once they noticed Tom and Becky, they came over.

"Hey Tom, we're all going to the river. Care to join us?" Amy Lawrence asked. She met eyes with Tom and smiled. "You too, Becky." Becky and Tom looked at each other. Shrugged.   
A lot of time had passed since they were at odds-- the old drama from when they were ten had faded and mellowed out. It was all calm now; in a town as small as this, there wasn't room for old grudges. They all saw each other too often.

"Alright, Amy. We'll come." Becky smiled. Tom nodded along. Amy and them had already started leaving, barely waiting for a response.

Tom and Becky made their way through town eventually. The sun was on their backs, drawing reds and whites and hues of heat into their clothes. They ignored the burning feeling.   
Tom took out a folder from his school bag and held it up, shading Becky while they walked. The shadow curved and stretched and moved over her with their out-of-time steps. The walk felt a lot longer than the other day, now that there was this afternoon heat. But eventually they reached the river.

They walked up to the other kids-- Joe, Amy, Ben, and a few others-- who were all talking and laughing already, sitting and standing far enough away from the water's edge. Dirt and gravel skidded quietly as Tom and Becky walked up to them.   
Boats went by, reflecting sunlight with their metal sheen. The water moved in a washing way, lapping against the ground and against the distant boats. It was a calm noise.   
With the sun up, it was a whole different place.

"...I'm just saying-- I think we should hold more fairs and things than just once every few years!" Amy said, her voice sounding bright and loud in the open air. Tom ignored the discomfort in the pit of his stomach from hearing it.

"Then they wouldn't be as special." Someone else said. Amy shook her head in response. Tom and Becky came closer, now within a better distance to hear. Amy looked over quickly, her mouth already open in a smile, in a half-formed word.

"No, they-- Hey, Tom. Becky. Don't you think the fairs should come to town more than just once every few years?"

"Yes, of course." Becky said, and Tom nodded. "Otherwise it's a little boring here." Becky continued, squeezing Tom's hand. His stomach gave a rush of nervousness, thinking about going.

"See?" Amy smiled, pulling a strand of hair away from her face.

"But the more often they are, the less people would want to go." Ben said.

"Everyone would still want to go, Ben. Because what else are they going to do here? Swim in the Mississippi?" Amy said, motioning towards the river with a slight grimace. "We need more interesting stuff here." Amy said. Sighed.

"Well, just be glad we have something... At least the fair comes at all." Becky said, sitting down next to some of the others. Tom and Becky sat on the ground.

"Don't keep her going." Joe Harper replied, rolling his eyes. He was sitting on the dusty ground next to Tom.

"But once it's over and done with, what is there to do?" Amy asked, looking up at the sky.

"There's this." Tom said. "Just hanging out, right?"

"That's boring." Amy said. Tom felt a slight pang in his gut at that. Was this enough? "...You guys are all going to the fair, right?" Amy asked.

"Yes." Becky said quickly, giving Tom a smiling, knowing look.

"Good." Amy said. The conversation switched to other topics at varying tones. All of it passed Tom by with smiles and outbursts of laughs and the silence of listening. Listening to everyone's voices, their stories, and the waves of the Mississippi next to them.

They all stayed until right before sunset.

No one lingered to look at the waves, except for Tom and Becky. Seeing it again, reliving these moments with Becky, was all Tom needed. They watched how the waves sparkled and shifted with light, and how once the sun faded, the river turned black and looked deeper than it had before.   
When the sunset was over, they walked home together in the blue light of darkening streets. Tom walked Becky back to her perfect house. Waited to leave until she passed her house's gate. She looked back at him for a moment before going in.

"See you at school tomorrow?" She asked, a smile on her face.

"Yeah." He said. He didn't like being stuck in a classroom, stuck on campus. But he'd tolerate it all for her.

Becky went into her house, and Tom left to his.


	5. Chapter 5

The group hung out more over the following week. Going on walks through town; looking through the market; sitting by the river from after school to when the sun started setting, falling with heat. Becky joined them most days. Some days she left early to do homework— she usually wanted Tom to do the same, but he never did.   
Other days she went straight home. This was one of the latter days, when the air was different and a soft, tired humidity set over everything.

The sun set differently without Becky. Tom felt he couldn't see all the hues in the sky when she wasn't there to bring them out. And so a sunset was just that. Just colors in the sky of a fading sun. But on those days, he wasn't really focused on the sunset, and was instead just trying to relax with Amy and Joe and his other friends.

Today, they were by the river again. The sun was still up, but not for long.

"Mr. Dobbins is really getting on my nerves." Amy said. The spark of his name made Tom and the others sigh and murmur, and so Amy continued. "He's become very liberal with his beating stick. Ben, you hardly said a few words in Bible study and Mr. Dobbins was already saying how incorrect you were!"

"Yeah, but he had skipped a few classes before, so no wonder he was mad." Joe shrugged.

"Oh, whatever. Just cause I skipped a class or two ain't mean he can come after me. Right, Tom?" Ben Rogers said, pulled out of a smaller side conversation with another boy.  
Tom nodded, feeling sick at even the memory of the schoolroom.

"Yeah! And the other day, Tom said, like, two words and Mr. Dobbins went straight to the front and grabbed a beating stick. For what? His rules have really changed since a few years ago." Amy huffed, taking a strand of hair in her face and tucking it behind her ear.

"And I don't ever want to go to that class, but if I don't, I'll still catch one of those beatings. It's a lose-lose with Mr. Dobbins." Tom said, sighing. They nodded.

"It happens, I guess." Joe said.

They talked until the air was darker and fresher with night.   
And then the sun started its array of colors.   
When a dark was hanging and waiting to set in, everyone got up, brushing themselves off, finishing off conversations. They all started to walk back towards town. Towards their houses.

"Tom," Amy called out his name, and he looked back, slowing so she could catch up with him. She took a few steps towards him, but then stopped. "Can we talk?" Amy asked. He looked towards everyone else's continuing figures, but decidedly turned around and walked back to Amy. It'd only take a few minutes.

"Yeah. What's up?" Tom asked, running a hand through his hair.

"I just wanted to talk a few minutes more. It's really been so long since we've hung out alone..." She said, and he nodded. Amy wandered towards the edge of the river, looking out at it.

"You haven't been avoiding me, have you? Tom, say you haven't been." Amy asked, turning to him, waiting for his response. Her voice mixed with the river's waves. Tom shook his head, walking towards her. The air felt dark, confined.

"No, Amy. Why would I wanna avoid you?" Tom asked, looking at all of the boats passing by on the rippling water currents. The red sun was glowing against the water. Tom wished Becky was here to see it.

He felt something strange in his gut at being here alone with Amy. Despite having years of friendship, he couldn't recall ever hanging out with just Amy. Alone together outside their brief relationship as children.

"Well... Because of Becky, of course." She said. One of her hands came up and messed her hair, twisting it and tucking it behind other strands. "Tom," She said his name with a breath, looking at him like she had pulled herself from her thoughts to say it. "We've never had a chance to be close friends these past few years!"

"Um... Amy, what do you mean? There's been plenty of times-- We've all hung out so much. And there's right now." Tom said. He took a few more steps towards her to hear her better over the waves. To see her through the fading air. He could see the glint in her eyes from the sun.

"Yes, Tom, but... Well, do I have to say it directly? Out loud?" She asked, nudging the dirt with her heel. He just looked at her inquisitively, seeing how breezes pulled at her hair and how the light reflected with red against her skin. "I guess I do." She answered herself quietly. "Tom," She turned towards him completely.

She felt a bit too close-- he could feel some of the heat coming off her body; He could see a sharpness and a color in her eyes he couldn't usually see when they were surrounded by their friends.   
He didn't like it.   
"Tom, do you like me?" She asked.

"...Well, yeah." Tom said. A wideness grew in her eyes. A smile. Was there something he was missing?

"You do?" She asked. He couldn't tell if she had stepped towards him, or if he had just taken too large a step before, but now she was right here in front of him. Tom could feel the air from her breaths on his skin. His stomach dipped sickly.

"Yeah. We're friends, right?"

"Very much so, I hope." Amy said. The air around him was condensed, trapping in its expanding night.

"Then that's all you need, right?" He smiled. Was that it— could he go now, before the dark settled in?

"I hope so..." She seemed a little too close. "Tom?" She asked.

"What?" He hoped his voice would break whatever tension there was. Would make her take a step back. But it didn't, and he would've felt weird moving away from her.

"Have you, well... Have you liked me all this time? Even with Becky?" There was something in her voice. Something he couldn't fully process in this shrinking moment. They were face-to-face. His stomach was turning, pulling.

"What? Yeah. We're—" She took another step.

She kissed him.


	6. Chapter 6

A coldness washed through his entire body. He pushed her away lightly, quickly, bewildered. Took a step back. He should've stepped back before.

The air turned silent, and their faces flushed. He couldn't get past the silence of the air, of the sunset, now.

"We're friends, Amy." He said roughly. Her eyebrows lowered, raised. Her eyes lost their wideness and their shine. Tom looked around, panicked. His hands came up to his head, pulling through his hair. A deepness settled behind everything. What had just happened? Tom hardly breathed.

"Oh." She said. She pulled a hand up to her hair, too, moving the clumps and curls to one side of her neck and then the other. "Tom, I--" She took a short breath, an inhale. "Sorry. I'm..." She sighed, and there was a thickness in the sound. "I'm sorry."

"Was I giving you mixed signals?" He asked quickly, sharply, eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't tell if he was angry or confused or annoyed-- it all blended in his stomach and in his skin and his blood, swirling like smoke through him. His skin burned.

"A bit, yes." She gained the same edge in her voice that he had. "Tom," She sighed. "You've never really given me much thought, have you? Given us much thought." She said. Both their faces were red. Tom furrowed his eyebrows, staring at her.

"Us? Amy, I'm with Becky." He said. "No." He felt the absence of light in the air. "Why would I?" He asked.

"Tom, because, well... Haven't I made it obvious?" Amy's voice gained a sadness, a tint of slowness and breath that it didn't have before. "I thought..." She shook her head, closed her eyes.  
"I smile at you all the time. I sit next to you in class, sometimes. I let you borrow my pencils when you and Becky don't have any." She said. Her voice was like a plead, filled with a shake as if it was coming through from a string and two cans. Like it was coming through the ground. It vibrated the air around them. And Tom glanced away in disbelief, his eyes squinting, his mouth open slightly in a forming scoff.

"What? No, Amy. That—that's just being nice. I've, well..." He swallowed. Amy seemed close to tears, and he couldn't deal with that. But he also couldn't be too friendly—Amy had kissed him. He and Becky had hardly ever kissed. He couldn't be too nice or she would take it wrong. A nervousness ran through him. A darkness settled in him as it settled in the air. "I've got Becky. I never noticed those things you do, Amy. Or, I don't, uh... I haven't read into them like that, cause that's what all my other friends do." Tom said.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling uneasy, feeling like he had nothing supporting him. "I don't like you... like that." Tom said. His voice was dry.

"Oh." Amy nodded.  
"At all." He finished. "I just gotta make that known to you, Amy. I only like Becky. As long as I do, I ain't ever gonna like you like that." He said. He thought Amy's feelings had gone away when they were, like, ten. But apparently not.

"Sorry, Tom." She said. Her voice was dry, too. Tired and scratchy in its usual loudness. The sun settled into its darkness. "I... I needed to know for sure, I guess." She said, taking a good long look at him. "It's just that you've never really given me a chance, all these years--"  
"With Becky here."

"Yes, with Becky here. And, so, I've never knew if it was just me feeling this. But, well... Now I know, I guess." Amy said.

"Yeah. I guess." He said. A bitterness was in his voice that he didn't want. He probably sounded too mean-- "I don't mean to be rude, but... I mean, you just kissed me, and... I'm not... into you." He said. Amy closed her eyes.   
He was probably making it sting worse the more he talked.

A quiet fell between the two. Sticky and dipping like a pit, taking in the whole conversation. There was nowhere else to go from here.

"I gander they'll go, now. The feelings I've had. Now that I know for sure...?"

"Yeah." Tom said. "Sorry." He didn't really feel sorry, though. He felt nervous. He felt uncomfortable, knowing that Amy had still liked him all this time. That the drama and emotions from years ago were still there, for her. And that he hadn't known. Hadn't even guessed.   
"Will you be alright, with Becky and I right there?" He asked anyway. He hoped she would be. He hoped she wouldn't try to kiss him again.

"...Yes. It'll show me how you two really feel, so maybe it'll help." She said. Her words in his ears felt unsupported and quiet. The dark air was collapsing around them.

"Let's head back." Tom said. Amy nodded quickly, tucking another strand behind her ear.

"Thanks for talking. It, um..." Nothing in the air. Boats passing by emptily. She swallowed. "...helped." Her voice was brief, sharp.

"Yeah, whatever." He said, then closed his eyes, paused, sighed deeply. He didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. "That's what friends are for." He said, then realized his deeper mistake. Every word made it worse. She smiled sadly and gave a grimace, and he did too. "Sorry." He said, shaking his head, laughing slightly. A bitter humor.

"I'll heal." She said with that same uncomfortable smile. The sunset was over, now. They walked home.


	7. -

"There was but one solitary thing about the past worth remembering and that was the fact that it is past—can't be restored."

-Mark Twain


	8. Chapter 8

Two days later, during the break between classes, Tom went up to Becky.

Amy had been taking up his mind for the past few days. Every second he spent with Becky, he watched her hands. Watched her face. Watched her eyes for any notice that she knew.

But today, Amy left his mind once he saw Becky in the rising sun's air. Once he walked up to her, seeing that she was talking with some other girls from their class, he felt alright.

"Hi, Becky." He grinned at her the same as he did every time. He watched for any twitch, any notice of things being different. She glanced over at him, and then a pained, annoyed expression crossed into her face. Her eyebrows knitted, her eyes squinted, and she sighed, getting up. At this, Tom's stomach turned. Amy came back to his mind. Something had happened.

"See you, girls." Becky looked and smiled back at them. When she started walking towards Tom, the smile dropped to a tired, finished look. Her eyes held a sharpness. And he felt that pit from two days ago come back. The pit he got from talking with Amy.   
That feeling of being trapped, of everything being set into something awful, was there. It felt like it had when Amy leaned in. He couldn't think on anything else but the fact that she already kissed him. It couldn't be taken back.  
Something wasn't right. Tom took a breath.

"Let's talk." Becky said. Tom looked in her angry eyes and his stomach turned. He worriedly followed after her quick steps towards the tree in the courtyard. He saw it was empty over there, and that made the waves in his stomach turn harsher.

"What's going on?" Tom asked, and she just shook her head. Even with his long legs, Becky was storming off too fast for him.

The seconds were slow, with Tom trailing after her, hoping she would slow down, hoping her anger faded before they started talking, hoping she didn't know what had happened.

She stopped abruptly under the shade of the tree, turning sharply towards him.

"I heard that you and Amy hung out alone yesterday?" She asked.

"Yeah?" Tom asked. A weight in his stomach. In his heart. A darkness, a heat in his vision. Becky leaned her head in, an annoyed look coming after his half-answer, wanting more. "Yeah, we did." His throat was dry, but it hadn't come across in his voice just yet.

"Okay. And I talked to Amy about it. She said you two..." She closed her eyes for a moment, her hands clenching the bottom hem of her skirt, crumpling the soft, vibrant fabric. She exhaled in a scoff. "...had a 'real heart to heart'--What does that mean?—" She was baring her teeth in her words. Was showing fire in the way she looked at him. "And then that I had 'nothing to worry about.'" She said.

Tom swallowed air. He kept his eyes wide open, kept trying to see how much she knew. Trying to hide his expressions and keep himself still so she wouldn't get madder. She smoothed down her dress. "But that made it sound like I had something to worry about." She said.  
"What?"  
Becky rolled her eyes, sighing angrily. He couldn't think. "Did something happen between you two? Because Amy... She said," Becky breathed out with an angered sigh, looking to the side. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Tom tried taking her hand, but she pulled it away sharply. She stared at him with her wide harsh glaring eyes, and he felt a shadow in his soul. Her hands smoothed and crumpled her dress' edges. "She said you two kissed?" She looked away for a second. Then regained herself and looked again, hardly a movement in her body. The words, once he captured them and could think, made Tom close his eyes, wishing the image away. Wishing the feeling away, wishing the kiss never had happened. That mix of cloudiness, of smoke like the steamboats, overtook him.

"No, I... We--"

"So you didn't." Becky said. Tom couldn't tell if it was a calm anger in her voice or if it was relief. He looked at her eyes. He still couldn't tell. She was so angry.

"She kissed me."

"Wow." She shook her head, staring at him with such a focus, and a bitter, hateful smile came to her face. Her hair curls swirled around her face like that day they watched the sunset. That was just a few days ago. How could it change? "Wow, Tom." He heard a break in her voice.

"And-- and right after, I told her I don't like her at all. That it's only you, Becky. For me."

"Yes, of course. Of course you did." Becky said. A pause. Anger pulling off of her. She shook her head again and a squint came to her eyes, her nose, and her eyebrows came down incredulously. This wasn't good. Tom could feel her pulling away, could feel her anger pushing into him, pushing him apart from her.

"When were you going to tell me?" She asked. Shook her head. "Actually, you probably weren't." She said. Tom opened his mouth, but she glared at him, and he saw the tears in her eyes, and he couldn't get a breath. "Why did you even stay with her after?" Her hands still messed with her dress. The air was too loud around them. He wished he hadn't. He wished he never gave her a chance to kiss him. He wished he said no and just went home. But he couldn't have known.

Her voice continued without waiting. "Would you have, if I had gone with you?"

"I don't think she would've asked if you did..." He said quietly. He saw the shine in her eyes. Like when they were at the sunset, but different. Darker, thicker, more reflective. He had to save this. Every word made it worse.

"But Becky, it's not your fault. It's mine, it's hers--" The bell started ringing.

"I know." Fire was spitting off her voice. Becky was so still and condensed and furious. Of course it wasn't her fault. Saying that made it worse. Saying anything made it worse. "I have to go to class, Tom." Becky said, her hands coming up to wipe at her eyes.

She started moving with quick, quiet, small steps and stumbles. Tom followed with her, and she turned abruptly, her dress whipping, her hands clenched tightly. "Don't walk with me." She said, glaring widely, and Tom could see that devastated look in her eyes. "I need to think." Becky said harshly, quietly, and turned again, walking to the next class.

The pit, the weight, in Tom was too much. He felt like the sun was baring down on him. Like the sky was swallowed in his throat, making him choke and wait and stay as if something better would happen. As if he could fix this. He stood there in the courtyard as she continued; as their friends walked past him; as the rest of the school went to class.

He eventually went in, too.


	9. Chapter 9

Becky was sitting with some of the other girls, who were talking with her with soft looks in their eyes. Amy was sitting separately with Joe and them. Tom had no one to sit by.

A falling feeling was in him, set, and he couldn't choose where to sit until Mr. Dobbins said "Find a seat or get a beating, boy." So Tom walked quickly-- hardly on his feet, hardly feeling the movements-- to the back of the room. The only empty seats were the desks with scratches and dips and curves in them, back there where no one else was. He sat and the chair was uneven, wobbling, old.

He couldn't focus.

He needed to fix everything, but Becky wouldn't want to be anywhere near him. He sat stewing in class, hardly paying attention. 

"Tom Sawyer." Mr. Dobbins' voice was harsh, and Tom looked up from staring at the old desk. His stomach suddenly turned; his heart suddenly heaved.

"Mr. Dobbins?" He asked, his voice hardly enough to say more than that.  
"Your answer to the question on the board?"  
"Sorry, sir. I..." He closed his eyes. A dark hot feeling continued through him, making everything worse. It was all hardly staying together; He was hardly staying together.

"Read the board, Sawyer." Mr. Dobbins was irritated, Tom could tell. But he always was, and Tom could hardly focus on his own thoughts, and the board was hardly in his view back here, past the distance and everyone's heads... They were all turned around, looking at him. A redness was in his face, in the feeling of his stomach. A burning red, the feeling of a scorch, of a firecracker on his skin.

"I can't..." Tom squinted. With Mr. Dobbins' handwriting being swirly and crushed thin cursive, Tom could never really read it well. And back here, it was even worse. It was too far away. But Tom did his best, trying not to focus on everyone's stares or on the feelings blooming in his stomach.

"Stand up, boy." Mr. Dobbins said, and Tom did. His legs were vibrating and weak, and he wanted nothing more than to run.

On the board was something about the Bible. Something about disciples and symbolism-- Tom sighed, panicked, overwhelmed-- A crying sigh was hidden away in him; he tried to only look at the board, avoiding everyone else. His hands came to his hair, bunching it and combing through it.

"The first two disciples, Tom Sawyer. In the Bible, who symbolized what?"

"Um," Tom couldn't think. "They were, uh..." Tom looked around, saw more people turn to face him, to see the panicked, defeated look in him. He searched for an answer, for something.

He found Becky. She was looking at him, but when they met eyes, she turned back around towards the front. He felt himself tear apart at that. At meeting her eyes and seeing her look away, wanting nothing to do with him.

He closed his eyes. Even with his feet on the ground, he felt like he was spinning, like he was floating in the dark cold river. He didn't want this feeling anymore. It didn't matter what he said to Mr. Dobbins or to Becky. Whatever he said would be wrong, he knew.

"Adam and Eve," He said softly. He heard some people exhale or hold their laughs or let them out in snickers. He saw Becky shaking her head. He sighed, his eyes flicking away to the side. He couldn't stop now; He continued, talking louder. He stood up straighter. He had a talent for doing things wrong, and he had to accept that. "They symbolized a lack of faith in authority and..." Tom swallowed. His face was hot. His stomach was turning, burning. "...And tradition, and, uh... They were punished for it." He said. Mr. Dobbins nodded, looking around the room.

"Good try, Sawyer. But that's incorrect." Mr. Dobbins said.  
"I know." Tom said to himself, starting to sit down.  
"What was that, boy?" Mr. Dobbins asked. Tom closed his eyes tightly, feeling the mistake resonate in him. He should've known not to do that.

"I-- I know it's wrong, Mr. Dobbins." Tom said. His voice was light, nervous, dry again.

"Then why did you say it?" Mr. Dobbins asked. Tom knew Mr. Dobbins didn't really care. He just wanted a fight, like always, and wanted someone to beat. Just wanted to punish him.

"...I had to say something or you would get mad." Tom said. Mr. Dobbins looked taken aback. Tom was making it worse. He was making it so much worse.

"I would get mad? How would you know, boy?"

"You like giving me beatings, sir." Tom shrugged. He felt the lack of air around him. He felt the darkness in the room. Mr. Dobbins' face started getting red. Tom knew he was messing up again, but it had already started, and he couldn't do anything else but keep going. The class was silent.

"And you sure like talking back to me. Get down here, Sawyer." Mr. Dobbins said, pointing harshly to the floor beside him at the front of the room. Tom stayed where he was for a moment. He didn't want this. "Come, Sawyer, or I'll strike you more."

Tom sighed. "Yes, sir."

"What was that?" Mr. Dobbins asked quickly. Tom rolled his eyes. There always had to be a fight with him. There always had to be a show. It wasn't enough that Tom said something wrong. It wasn't enough that he was going to get stricken. Tom could feel the tenseness in the room, everyone waiting for him to move, for this to be over.

"Nothing. Sorry, sir." Tom started towards the front. He could see Mr. Dobbins take the thickest stick from the wall. Tom couldn't do anything right.

Tom came to the front of the room. He looked back to everyone for a moment, seeing Becky looking down, seeing Amy staring at him with sympathy, with sadness, before she met his eyes and they both looked to the ground bitterly.

He took Mr. Dobbins' beatings for talking back. For disrespect and not knowing the lesson and not paying attention, like he had been doing for years. With every hit his skin stung and burned, fiery and stiff and red under his clothes.

Tom realized that he didn't want to go to school anymore.   
His only reason for going was Becky, and that was over. And now that he was avoiding Amy... A sadness spread through him. They were all in the same friend group, and now that neither of them liked him... He wouldn't be friends with anyone here. He was alienated.

When it was all over, Tom went to the back of the room. Mr. Dobbins had his fill for the day; he didn't call on him again.

Tom sat for the rest of class, aching and stinging and waiting. His face was hot as he stared down at his desk, tracing the lines and curves in the wood, thinking about how to fix all of this. Thinking about how he never wanted to come here again. When it was all over, he walked home.


	10. Chapter 10

Tom laid on his bed, thinking. The blanket and the mattress felt hard, old, flattened after years of laying on it. The air in his room was still and hot and dusty. He remembered and stewed over everything from today. He felt he might gain a fever from all this stress. He couldn't focus. 

He needed to fix everything. He needed to talk to Becky. But... she wouldn't want to speak with him.

His only chance was to go to school and try to talk to her, despite how sick of school he was. Despite how she might avoid him. He needed Becky back.

Tom tried to do his homework, but he just couldn't. Becky would usually help him with it until it was finished, or he would know it enough to finish it fast. Now, neither were options.

Tom looked at the rough papers, hardly even reading the words on the pages, until the sun turned red-golden and he gave up. What did it matter, anyway? It was just math problems and English trivia and things that didn't matter. His whole life was falling apart and everyone expected him to fill out these papers? It didn't matter, whatever he did-- his teachers would either give him a good licking or leave him alone.

He just laid, staring at the ceiling, until his hunger went away and that mixing dark feeling in his stomach went away, replaced with tiredness and sleep.

He woke up with the sun, tired and wanting to go back to bed. But he had to talk to Becky, and he was already late-- school would be starting soon. Tom got dressed, and thumped down the stairs, putting items in his bag as he went. He slung the bag around his shoulder and ran out the door into the rising air.

Hardly past dawn, he ran through the mud of the town, past Amy's house and Becky's house and the Widow Douglas' and the church.

His breaths were loud, and the sun was rising in his eyes, and his heartbeat was moving through him. He was tired, but didn't want to get beat. Tom's bag bounced against his hips roughly, swinging all around and slowing him. But he couldn't be late to school or he would get another beating and he would get discouraged; if he was late he wouldn't be able to find Becky; he would lose his chance.

And so he ran through the town, through mud and gravel and dirt and grass, to get to the schoolyard. He needed to apologize.

Tom got to school, his legs so tired he felt he had to sit and lay down and collapse and rest. But he got to school and saw everyone standing around the courtyard, waiting, and he couldn't. The sun had just risen, and Tom felt that darkness come back into him, being back here. Without Becky, without anyone. The bell rang and he searched for Becky, but couldn't see her past the waves of people going in. And so Tom went to class. He felt an ache through him, an adrenaline making his legs to his fingertips tired. And he felt a sadness wash through him, seeing all these people together while he was without Becky.

He decided to sit in the back of the classroom-- nowhere else to go. He searched for Becky as he walked, and saw her sitting with those girls again. He tried to meet her eyes but she wasn't looking at him. That was better than it would've been, if he saw her look away. She was laughing with those girls, happy, without him. And, Tom sighed, that was better than seeing her cry.

Tom sat at one of the warped, scratched desks. And the whole class period, he just wanted to go outside and lay under that tree, holding Becky's hand like he had done so many times before.

Tom couldn't pay attention to math. He couldn't even see the board. His eyes kept wandering to the walls and ceiling, wishing he could see sky. And to Becky, the back of her head, her hair curling nicely over her shoulders. The ache in his heart stayed.

Eventually, class ended. A bell rung and everyone got up. The teacher didn't have time to give them homework. They hurried to their next classes.

Tom got up quickly from the wobbly desk, his long legs feeling tangled and weak as he got up. He kept Becky in his sight, putting his bag on and moving past the aisles and rows of people. He scooted and stretched past the swarming and pushing crowds, trying to get to Becky.

But there were too many of them and by the time they reached the courtyard, pulling out to the open bright air, he had lost her.

He looked and looked, turning his head, seeing the vibrating masses of people talking, laughing, smiling.

Tom stood, looking past all these moving people, trying to see to where Becky could be. He looked over to Amy and Joe and them, but of course she wasn't there.

Tom looked for those girls she was with. Couldn't find them. Tom glanced and walked and searched for Becky's long curls, for one of her perfect dresses, for her dainty and calm and happy face.

He still couldn't see her.

Tom gave up eventually, going to the tree he usually went to during break. His stomach turned, weightless and weight-filled again. But that's where she was.

Becky was there, with those girls. And she was looking around nervously, talking with them, messing with the bottom hem of her skirt. A relief came over him. He had hardly any time before the bell would ring, but there she was. The air was white, glowing on her. Tom headed over.

He could see Becky looking around, and he could see Becky look at him, at his eyes. Her's gained a sadness, a bitterness, as she looked at him. And she turned away, saying something to the girls.

Tom walked faster, reaching them.

"Becky, I need to talk to you." Tom said breathlessly. He felt desperate searching air in his throat. She shook her head. He felt the looks of everyone on him. He knew he shouldn't be here—he knew they were all siding with her, all believing what she believed—they thought he had purposefully cheated on her. And the idea of everyone thinking badly of him made his stomach swarm. Made him feel sick to his soul.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Becky--"

"Leave me alone, Tom. Don't you understand? Why would I want to talk to you? It's been like a day since I even found out." She said, eyes not parting from his. The girls murmured to her, their hands on her shoulders and back, now. Pulling her away.

"But Becky, I--" The bell rang. It always rings before it should. He needed more time. He always needed more time. "Becky, it ain't because of me. Ask Amy, she'd tell you it was all her. I don't like her-- I like you."

"Then you shouldn't've kissed her, Tom." His name in her voice, in a horrible tone. Angry, harsh, without anything it usually had, without anything it should've had. It curled his stomach and turned his heart, and he wished she said it in a different way.

"I didn't, Becky." Tom said. "Why don't you believe me?" He asked, pleaded. How could he ever fix this between them? That awful shine that had been in her eyes was now in his, and he hated that. He wanted to be strong in front of her. To hold his ground and say, 'Becky, she kissed me and I couldn't stop it, and I love you, and I've loved only you.' But he couldn't, and she wasn't listening.

"Because I wasn't there, and I should've been, and because of what you didn't tell me. Amy told me herself that you two kissed. And that you kissed her back." Becky said.


	11. Chapter 11

Resentment was in her eyes. A shockwave hit and buzzed through Tom.

"Now leave me alone. Go be with Amy. I need to go to class." Her words were needles, and his skin vibrated. Her hands still clutched her skirt, wrinkling the smooth, colored fabric.

It was all coming in-- all the pain that had been there from first seeing Becky, from being kissed by Amy, from everything. He just wanted Becky back.

Tom now noticed all the people moving past them, going to class like they should be doing. Tom shook his head, but that bell had already rung and Becky and her friends hurried away, not wanting to be late. A hopelessness spread in him. What an awful feeling that came over his mind, over his heart. He wanted to cry, to yell, to run. To wait and lay against the ground, pressed into it. How could Amy say that? How could all this have happened?

Tom didn't know what to do, knowing what Amy really said to Becky. He couldn't fix things now-- he had to go to class or risk getting another beating from Mr. Dobbins.

Tom sat at the back again. He tried to be as quiet, as unproblematic as he could. But Mr. Dobbins did as he always does.

"Tom Sawyer," Tom closed his eyes at the voice, already sick of it, already wishing he had just gone home and stayed home. "Can you summarize the reading from last night?" Mr. Dobbins asked. Tom looked around, a bitter, sad smile coming to his face.

"What passage was that?" Tom asked.

"The assigned passage, Sawyer."

"Yes, I," Tom looked away, took a shallow breath. He couldn't do this every day. Tom could hardly keep up with all the schoolwork due, and with Mr. Dobbins, he would never be good enough, anyway. "I know, sir--"

"Then summarize it." Mr. Dobbins said. It was as if he knew Tom couldn't, he thought, looking at the teacher. At his old, wrinkled, amused face. The face that Tom hated to see smile, because it was always at his expense.

"I don't know, sir."

"You just said you did." Mr. Dobbins said.

Tom didn't care anymore. He would get spanked, beaten, whipped, anyway.

"I don't." Tom said. And he stood up. He untangled himself from his desk, and the chair scraped against the old warped ground. And as he moved, his papers fluttered, his pencils tapped and rolled across the ground to his feet.

"What are you doing, Sawyer?" Mr. Dobbins asked. Tom walked down the aisles towards the front of the room. The classroom was silent.

"Sir, I don't know the passage." Tom came up to the front and his heart beat deeply, anxiously. None of this mattered. If he didn't have Becky to keep him going, then there was no point to all this struggle. He didn't want all this extra drama, all of this extra suffering when he could just give up. When he could just let Mr. Dobbins beat him.

The usual tension in the room was still there-- it was a constant, here, for Tom. Always when Mr. Dobbins spoke. Tom stood in front of Mr. Dobbins, who was still. This had never happened before, Tom reckoned. "So hurry up, if you will, sir. I don't know the passage."

Mr. Dobbins didn't do anything yet. Could hardly move with Tom right in front of him, a darkened look in his eyes.

"Fine." Tom turned to the wall, retrieving the thickest beating stick. That was the one Mr. Dobbins used, anyway. A lump, a dryness, was in Tom's throat. His face burned.

The fire in his stomach, burning, acidic, was always in him here. If Mr. Dobbins was going to beat him today, it would be better for it to be over quickly instead of a prolonged experience like it usually was. "Just go ahead." Tom's voice was quiet. He held it out to Mr. Dobbins, but he still didn't move. "Just take it, Mr. Dobbins." Tom said in a whisper.

Mr. Dobbins looked into his eyes. Saw a bewilderment and a sadness. Saw just how tired he was. Just how much he wanted to go home, to be happy.

"That's not necessary, Sawyer." Mr. Dobbins replied quietly and took it and replaced it on the wall. Tom stood there, face red like ever. His hands were cold and empty, falling back to his sides. He just wanted to go home. "Go back to your seat. We'll go over the reading."

The class was silent. Tom walked back up to his seat with a burning face, with a humming in his head. He didn't look at Becky, didn't look at Amy. Everyone's eyes trailed after him as he walked past them all to the rickety and scratched and old desk, alone in the back.

Mr. Dobbins wasn't usually like that. Maybe he felt pity.   
Tom would've rather be beaten with that stick, though, he thought with a churning in his gut. He felt queasy today. He wanted it to be over with. He wanted the pain to be gone.

Mr. Dobbins went over the reading, but the whole rest of time spent in class, that ordeal he made was in his mind. Mr. Dobbins would probably want to speak with Aunt Polly, he thought sickly.

After class, Tom didn't bother going up to Becky; she wouldn't want to speak with him. So he packed up slowly. His schoolbag, slung against his shoulder, felt heavier than it was. He was so tired.

As Tom walked out the last in the class, Mr. Dobbins stopped him.

"Are you alright, Sawyer?" He asked. That vicious smile wasn't there. All Tom could think of was Becky's angry, sad, disparent face. And of going down to the front of the room, Mr. Dobbins seeing as Tom handed him the beating stick. Tom blinked it away, back to Mr. Dobbins in the present, empty, quiet classroom.

"Yes, I'm fine, sir. Sorry for earlier." Tom said, and Mr. Dobbins nodded. "I'll do the reading this time."

"There's a lot you can learn from that reading, Tom." He said.

"Okay, sir." Tom nodded. His chest and his throat fluttered in breaths, and his legs were empty and heavy in their stance. Tom was too tired and embarrassed to argue, to scoff, to be how he usually was.

"Alright, then." Mr. Dobbins said, turning away, letting Tom leave. Tom was glad it was just that and not more. He couldn't take one of his winding lectures. And he couldn't take Mr. Dobbins, the cruelest teacher here, being nice to him.

Tom finished the school day. He had left Becky alone. Had avoided Amy. He needed to go home, and he had work to do, and he had things to fix. He just wanted it to be over.


	12. Chapter 12

When he opened the big creaky door, walking into the house, he saw Aunt Polly in the kitchen, mixing together spices and vegetables for supper. The clanking pans and pots were a gentle noise, and it made his shoulders loosen and drop; the noise made him breathe in, breathe out, and resume. The house felt very still and calm. Different compared to everything else today.

Tom walked up the stairs, hearing the noise in how his weight bent down each wood plank. The sound of it all let him breathe in deeper, slowing down. His despair was still there, but he was up the stairs now, and heading towards his room.

His door was ajar, and so was Sid's.

The calm feeling went away as Tom walked closer. The day just never ended.

He could hear pages flipping from past his own door. Tom reached his doorframe and stood by it. Sid, with his still and short frame, was looking through Tom's bookshelves. He couldn't see Sid's face, for his brown hair was dripping over the edges of his face, hiding it from view. Tom could still see, though, that he was looking at a journal of some kind.

An anger came. A sickness of everything. He just wanted to be left alone.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked. Sid looked up at the noise, his body moving in a shocking motion, all of it twitching. As he did so, his nose flared and eyes widened and he took a step as he usually did when he was caught in Tom's room. He stood, frozen, staring.

"Well? Get out!" Tom said.

Sid had just been standing there motionless for seconds, just staring back. "Go, you trespasser! Why, I aughta go through your things when you're out of the house." Tom said, stamping heavily over to his brother. He moved to swat or snap at Sid, who suddenly regained his motion.

Sid didn't reply to any of what Tom had said, just shoved the book back into a spot and hastened out with quick steps. He didn't even close Tom's door as he scuffled away, but when he got to the hallway, the footsteps stopped.

Tom could hear Sid intake a large breath. Knowing what was about to happen, Tom closed his eyes and a mixed, churning clouded feeling pulled through him. The same one that had been with him the whole day, shadowing and deepening and cutting, like a digging pit. Nothing was right.

"Aunt Polly!" Sid's voice was like a whine. The same as it had been for years. "Aunt Polly, Tom hit me!" Sid said. He huffed, waiting for a response. But Aunt Polly was still moving around in the kitchen, and with her hearing having gotten worse over the years, she likely couldn't hear Sid. He sighed, scoffed, stood in the hallway for another minute before going back to his room, his door closing with a harsh slide and a thump.

Tom exhaled quickly with a huff. He ran a hand through his hair. He walked messily through his room, pushing his door closed.

He didn't understand why it was like this-- why Sid did whatever he pleased. Why things were right but then it all stopped and went sour. But it didn't matter if he didn't understand or not-- it would just keep happening.

The grey burning feeling, the anger, the despair, stayed in him as he walked tiredly back to the bookshelf, looking at the book Sid had gone through.

Tom pulled it out and flipped it over, feeling the worn cover slide against his fingers.

A thin brown journal from years ago. Tom opened it to one of the first pages.

His feelings mixed with remembrance, moving his thoughts in different streams of anger and of recollection. The handwriting on one of the pages was so bad he could hardly read it, but still he felt the emotion behind the scribbles. He saw the importance of keeping it.

Tom sat down on the ground, looking through more pages, trying to read them. His feelings left him with the focus on now, on the old journal.

Sentence fragments were written, pulled across the sides of a page, tilted towards the corners. More pages, hardly staying together, barely making sense. And on one page he flipped to, a drawing came out.

It slid down the page of the journal and down into Tom's lap. The sound of the flutter, of its rough slide, encompassed all of the silence around him.

He picked it up gingerly.

The paper was hardly the size of his hand. It was tattered and worn and folded at the edges. It was blank on that side. He turned it over in his hands. He looked at the small, thin paper for a moment, and then his stomach skipped with his heart.

A rendering of Huckleberry Finn was on the paper.

Some lines were smudges, some were tiny streaks and scratches, and others were thick and lacked detail. But he could see it in the eyes, in the mouth, in the shape of the face. It was Huckleberry Finn.

Tom remembered the day it was drawn:

Out in the forest, Joe, Huck, and Tom had all been playing. The thought brought an ache and an acidic swirl to his stomach. So long ago, they were all together. Joe had drawn it with the remaining paper from a test handed back, and a pencil that was worn down and short. For such a small child, it had been skillfully done.

Tom had wanted it to be him who was drawn, but Huck pushed and said it could be Tom right after. Tom had conceded. But they went walking through the woods instead, and they never got to doing it. The day had been hot, and it was all blurred in Tom's head, and all he could recall was that they had left their stuff by a stump.

Joe had been called back home early, and Huck didn't want the small drawing anymore. Tom went home with it, so many years ago.

He hadn't thought of Huck in years. He hardly had remembered his face, Tom realized.

And it left him with a tone of sadness. His best friend, pushed to the back of his mind all these years. Tom's hair fell into his bright eyes as he stared down at the drawing.

It had been so long.

There was a blankness in him that had suddenly filled up. The loss of all those memories blanketed him under his skin. The past few years, he had just been continuing. Not even thinking of Huck. Today, he had forgotten everything good that had happened, replacing it with a longing and a tiredness and a despair. He didn't want that feeling-- he wanted the good he had had.

Tom couldn't give up on Becky like he had on the memory of Huck. He couldn't just let go of her because of a misunderstanding. He didn't like Amy, anyway. He liked Becky, and Becky liked him—or... at least Tom hoped she still did.

He just needed to talk to Amy. He needed to figure this out. But first... Tom sighed.

He put the drawing back into the journal, slowly, carefully. Put it back into a spot in the bookshelf. Away for another time he needed the memory-- Away for another time to remember his best friend.

Even if it felt like it didn't matter, like he didn't care at all about anything but getting Becky back... Tom had to do his homework.


	13. Chapter 13

Tom stayed up until late, doing his homework on his bed in the dark. Papers and books-- a bible for the assigned reading tonight, as well as a thin math book-- were spread across his sheets. It was the first time in a while he had really put in the effort. His eyes stung and he felt so faint, so tired and done with it, when he finished. He pushed the papers into his backpack, not caring if they crumbled and folded together. At least it was done.

When he thought about what he had to do next, though, that tiredness went away, replaced with a sudden liveliness, a quickening pace of heart. Tom got up from where he was, pulling his hands through his hair. He needed to talk to Becky. She might not listen, but... there was still a chance.

Tom got up from his bed, feeling the cold in the air. He walked from his bed towards his door. He opened it quietly, carefully, not wanting to wake Sid or Aunt Polly.

He walked through the hall, down the creaky stairs in just the right spots to be almost silent. His heart was fast and he tried to contain his breaths. His footsteps padded across the wood floors of the house as he walked towards the front door.

He opened it gently, that big wooden door, letting the night air in. Tom slipped shoes on, because he would hardly be able to see where he was going out there.

He stepped outside.

The great door took Tom's focus. He pulled it closed, one second after another, hardly moving it each moment so it could close without a creek, without the usual pull that would let Aunt Polly know he was leaving. And finally, the air filling with Tom's shallow and numerous breaths, the door was closed, and Tom turned away from the house.

There were gas lamps throughout town-- hardly any, but still there, lighting up the street with a glassy, hazy amber-orange flickering glow of fire.

When Tom was in their range, he could see his shadow through the bright, sharp air, and couldn't see past the aura of the light, shining on the ground and the grass and the edges of fences. And when he was out of the range, he could see as his eyes adjusted, there were so many stars and the town had a calmness.

He wished Becky was out here. When he got to her house he would pull her out to look at the stars and she would forgive him and it would be great again.

Tom kept walking. Hoping. He moved past neighbors' houses quietly, hoping they couldn't see his flickering shadow through their windows and their curtains.

Eventually, he reached Becky's house. The big structure brought a turning to his chest. It was formidable in this dark blue air, and then when he stepped into the light of another gas lamp, the glow and the shine of the light swirled in his eyes. Becky would probably be asleep... He would disturb the whole town... still, Tom stepped through the house's gate.

He was trespassing, now, but... He just needed to knock on their door.

Each of his steps crunched against the gravel, the grainy dirt, the crisp blades of grass. His limbs felt light and hardly in his control. Almost numb, he was unable to feel his own movements when he put his hand in a fist. When he came up to their big house and knocked on their door.

And the sound was thick. It echoed through the silent air, through his ears. Even if it was probably quieter than hearing the sound of the steamboats and the lapping water of the river from right here-- even if it was silent-- he felt it shake through his hand and through his bones and resonate in his gut.

And he heard movement from inside the house. That brought a thrill to his heart. An ache to his muscles, now awake, more than before, as someone unlocked her front door and pulled it open.


	14. Chapter 14

The door opened. A red feeling flushed through Tom.

A nervousness, sharp and overbearing and dark.

"It's past your curfew, boy." Mr. Thatcher said from the doorway.

"I-- I know, sir. I... I wanted to speak with Becky, if I could." Tom said, running a hand through his hair. His words felt tired, sof through this air, even if he was awake now.

He was hoping it would be her.

"She's asleep. As you should be; it's halfway through the night! What do you need to speak to her about?" Judge Thatcher asked. Tom straightened his worn shirt. He hoped Mr. Thatcher couldn't see it well through the night air-- it was an old shirt with a few holes in it.

"We had a misunderstanding."

"Yes, she told me that much, boy. Can't it wait?" Judge Thatcher asked, pulling a hand up to his mouth to cover a yawn.

"Sir, I don't think it can. I can't sleep knowing Becky is upset with me, and so I gotta make it right."

"Mr. Sawyer, you'll have to come back later. Becky's sleeping, and I'm not going to wake her if you're just going to come on in and make her upset."

"But--"

"Now, go back home, and have a word with her during the day when you get the chance. Close the gate when you leave. Good night." Judge Thatcher said.

"Mr. Thatcher--"

"Judge Thatcher."

"I just--"

"Go home, Tom. You're not going to see her tonight." He started to close the door. "If you go on home, I won't bring this up with your Aunt Polly." Judge Thatcher smiled tiredly, stubbornly, stiffly, and closed the big door.

Tom was left in the open air. The star-filled sky above him, the gas lamps lighting his way back home. But he couldn't go back home. Tom knew he wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that Becky thought... Tom sighed. How could Amy ever even say that? He absolutely did not kiss her back. He couldn't even imagine it-- the thought brought a turning to his stomach, his heart. How could he ever betray Becky like that?

Tom didn't want to speak with Amy. He wasn't prepared for that, and he didn't know what he could ever say to fix any of this. He already told Amy he didn't like her.

Walking away from the house, closing the gate behind him, Tom walked. And walked, and just kept going until his legs were tired with sleep and with standing.

And when his legs felt cramped and still and numb with light exhaustion, he sat on the dirt of the road. He saw how the gas lamps shone into his eyes like their own suns.

His exhaled breaths left him empty. He let himself lay down in the dirt and gravel of the road. He let himself stare at the lights, at the shine in their glass. At the fireflies that swarmed. And the air was so quiet, so open out here, that he felt all of the pressure in himself so strongly.

He stared up, past all the bright flickering shining lights of the gas lamps and fireflies, up to the sky. So many stars in the sky, some looking like tack-holes in the sky, others looking like the faint dottings of the freckles on Becky's face. He wished she could see this sky.

There were so many stars, so many constellations he didn't know. There was no room for that in school-- all they taught was the bible, a little math, and a little history.

His hair and his clothes were getting dirty. He didn't care.

It really didn't matter— no one could even see him, and all that Tom cared about right now was feeling the dirt, feeling the cool air, seeing the stars. Hearing the silence of his own breaths in the abandoned night.

Tom stared at that night, feeling crushed, feeling tired, wanting so badly for Becky that his chest was compressed and he could hardly breathe but sigh in the fresh wide air.

He felt doomed.

And then the drawing of Huck came to his mind.

He couldn't—no matter how much he wanted to-- resign to lying in the road forever. He couldn't wait for the sun to rise, or for a carriage to come by and kill him, or wait to sink down into the dirt and be suffocated.

He couldn't wait to disappear. For something that would end this feeling and make it better. Tom sighed again, letting it empty him; letting it fill the world in its silence.

He couldn't do all that. Instead, he needed to find a way to fix this.

He got up, hearing only the rustling of his clothes in the quiet, wiping the dirt off of himself. Despite how tired his legs were, his mind was awake. And so he walked again.

Wandering back through town, his shadow jumped and swung like the motion of the clock's pendulum in his house. He rambled around, staring up at the sky and down at his feet.

He took his shoes off, letting himself feel the sharpness and softness of this familiar ground. He thought about Becky, about how she must've been feeling. About Amy, and why in high heaven she would complicate everything so much.

He thought he would wander back on home, sneaking back to his bed and sleeping away this fatigue. But his feet took him past the glow of the streetlamps and past the softness of the dirt.

Soon, with twigs and leaves poking into his feet as he went, he was at the edges of the woods. He kept walking.


	15. Chapter 15

Tom still remembered these woods.

Past the memories of Huck were the memories of coming here, of calmly hiding and pretending he had died. Pretending he could just leave his home and his town. A comforting thought, but he wasn't quite sure why.

Tom continued through the woods, hearing the lapping of the Mississippi river nearby. Hearing the leaves and twigs crunching under his footsteps. All of it calmed him, making him forget for a moment or two about Becky and about all of it. It was like he was a little boy again, in these woods. Like he was sitting and waiting for Huck and Joe to come along and play pirates, or waiting to talk with them, or just being, sitting in these comforting woods.

Tom stood for a moment, staring and listening. He could hardly see through the deepening dark of the middle of the night, and so it was like his eyes were closed.

The forest breathed around him. The sliver moon had replaced the gas lights' glow, and the stars were like pins of morning sunlight falling onto him. The air was fresher than in the town, and with every breeze, the trees ruffled and shook and messed his hair. And the silence around him echoed like a vacuum, sucking every bad thought from his breaths.

There were fireflies, lightning bugs. Plentiful and fading with their green-yellow light like their own type of star and like he was floating and surrounded.

It really felt as if he was now back in time. And the ache in his heart was replaced with a longing for the past, for the calmness that came with it and the stillness that it had.

He heard a tune in the forest.

Filling the air with its vibrating, metal sound. With its light, buzzing noise, and Tom stood, listening. A fire started in his bones.

He felt something bump into him, and suddenly he got chills, and suddenly he was falling to the ground with an exclamation and a thud.

"Oh! Ay, uh," A boy's voice, sounding around the same age as Tom. He could hear the boy's feet shuffling on the leaf-filled ground, and saw through the dark the boy's hands reaching for air. "I reckon that ain't no tree."

"No, it's not a tree." Tom said, looking up but unable to see their face.

"Lemme help you up, then." The boy's hands touched Tom's shoulders, then felt down his arms to his hands.

"Thank you." Tom said. The boy's grip on him was rough. Calloused hands slid against Tom's, pulling him up. Tom brushed himself off. "What're you doing in the woods so late?" Tom asked with barely a breath, struggling to see the boy's face. The lightning bugs glowed in and out, showing flashes of a cheek, a shoulder, the edges of hair. But he still couldn't see, and he gave up, just listening to his voice instead.

"Oh, just walkin' around. And I can't see much in the dark, so figures I'd wander into these woods." The boy's voice was warm. Dark. A nice, soothing, pleasing sound, familiar and comforting despite never meeting this person before.

"I bet you're lost, then?" Tom asked, running a hand through his hair. He'd never met a person wandering the woods at night; he hoped he hadn't run into a killer or something.

"Nah, I ain't ever lost, just always on my way. I'll right myself around when the sun comes up." The boy said. Tom nodded, though he wouldn't be able to see that.

"I know my way around-- I can walk you back towards town, if you like? It's all lit up over there so you can see where you're going."

"Nah, that's 'aight. I'm fine here with the trees. Ain't nowhere to go this time of night anyways, besides to rest."

"Yeah, you're right." Tom nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"So why's you not in bed?" The boy asked. Tom shrugged, the motion unseen.

"I had to be alone. I have some things to think on." Tom said.

"Well, I ain't you, but I can give you perspective, I bet." The boy said. "If you want, I can listen." Tom thought for a moment over this.

"I don't want to be any trouble--"

"Nah! Let's sit us down and you can talk the night away. I ain't got nothing to do but listen, anyways." The boy said, and Tom nodded.

"Alright... I could use a talk." Tom said, and sat down on the twigs and roots and leaves, and the boy sat down beside him, invisible in the dark. For all Tom knew, in this dark, the boy could be a murderer or just in his imagination, but... it didn't really matter—Tom just needed to sort things out.

Despite this, Tom didn't know where to start. He thought and thought, looking up at the stars obscured by the leaves. Under this forest, it was dark as a fresh chalkboard, the deepness in it so black it looked like an ocean in the sky.

"What're you thinking on?" The boy nudged him. The warmth and the suddenness of it took him out of his thoughts.

"Well, you see," Tom just decided to start anywhere. The boy wouldn't know any of this anyway, and the night would be running short soon.

"...Amy Lawrence, um... kissed me, and my girlfriend wasn't there," It felt strange saying it outright, that Amy really kissed him. That Becky was his girlfriend. But... it also probably wouldn't be like that for much longer. "And I told Amy off and she told Becky we kissed and that I kissed her back, but that's a lie. And my girlfriend believes her!" Tom said. It all sounded so simple coming out of his mouth, but the feelings inside of him were all mixed, all turned together and tangled.

"Yikes."

"And what am I supposed to do about it? She won't have a word with me!" Tom said.

"Have you gone and talked to Amy about it yet?" The boy asked. Tom went quiet, his stomach turning. The simplicity of the boy's answers made Tom almost laugh, almost cry.

"No, but... it isn't something I'd like to do. I've been avoiding Amy since it happened." Tom said. He ran a hand through his hair. "And when it happened, I told Amy I ain't ever gonna like her like that."

"Well, there's your problem. You went and broke Amy's heart!"

"What?"

"My years of travel, I ain't ever met a person who'd respond well to that." He said. Tom blinked through the dark.

"How am I supposed to know that!" Tom exclaimed, putting a hand up into his hair.

"Man," He could hear the boy shaking his head, an almost-laugh in his voice through the dark. "You best go apologize before she makes it worse for you."

"...Well what about my girl?"

"Fix it up with Amy and I reckon she'll help you out. Shucks, was that it? I expected somethin' a bit worse than that for you to be stayin' up in the dead of night."

"Hey, you make it sound like it's not a big ol' deal!" Tom said, frowning. "It's really shaken me up for days now."

"Well, glad I could fix it!" He could hear the smile in the boy's voice now. It made Tom lean back, looking up at the black leaves against the navy sky, sighing. It made Tom smile—everything might be okay.

"Yeah, alright— Say... thanks for talking to me. I, um... I ain't had anyone to talk to about that whole thing." Tom said, looking over through the dark. He wished he could see the boy's face. "I, uh— I'm Tom." He said, and then felt a change in the other boy's breath, in the way he sat.

"Tom, huh?" There was a strangeness in the boy's voice, now. A sort of revelation, recollection, but Tom didn't really notice it that far. He didn't have enough time to think on it, either.

"Yeah. What's your-- Oh, darn. Sun's coming up. My Aunt'll whip me good if I don't get home." Tom said, getting up and brushing himself off. "See you sometime?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, I bet so. Bye, Tom." The boy said, but Tom didn't look back to see the boy's face in the rising air—he had too much to think on. He could see a bit more around him now, and so hurried on home before Aunt Polly noticed he had gone.


	16. Chapter 16

Tom reached his house as the sun rose. He'd be late to school if he didn't hurry.

Opening the big door as quietly as he could, and closing it just as gently, he thought he had made it back in time to be unseen. With just enough time to walk upstairs and— he then saw Aunt Polly looking at him from the kitchen.

"Forget something, Tom?" She asked. He stared at her, nervousness pulling up through him. "On your way out to school." She elaborated. "Did you forget something?" She asked, walking towards him. Tom smiled.

"Yes, Aunt Polly, I... forgot my bag." Tom said, walking quickly up the creaking stairs.

He changed his clothes and grabbed his bag and went back down, praying she didn't notice. "See you, Aunt Polly."

"Bye, Tom. Say, you just changed your shirt." She said confusedly, and Tom slowed.

"Yeah, I, uh," He faltered for a second, adjusting the shirt, tugging at the bottom of it. "I thought the other one was dirty so I switched it out. See you, Polly." He said quickly, leaving and closing the door behind him before she could notice anything else.

And then he was out and back in the street, walking to school. An elation filled his chest on not getting whipped for staying up and out all night, and on how soon he would be with Becky again. He ran down the streets he had been in a few hours ago, hurrying towards the school building.

He was almost late for class by the time he got there. There was no time to talk to Amy or to talk to Becky, yet. He just got a seat in the back and waited for class to be over.

The minutes were hardly minutes, stretching by. Every second, he thought the time would start passing faster. He thought it might go by in a blur, and he would be freed from this. These moments of staring at heads, seeing everyone either stilled completely or moving ever so often, turning their heads or scooting their chairs or pulling their hair back. Moments of exhaustion and restlessness and absolute, trapping stillness.

He watched the sun's light hitting and moving through the classroom, bright and white-yellow with a more amber edge, glowing into the shadowed room. Tom ignored the stinging exhaustion in his eyes.

The teacher's voice mixed and turned into a hum, a vibrating low noise in Tom's ears, hardly even a voice the longer it went on. It melted into a soothing, stretching, continuing noise. And the minutes went by, looping back to the same moments and feelings of learning and forgetting and waiting for sleep and to leave.

People were talking, Tom noticed. Whispering to each other in one corner of the room. It had overpassed the wave of noise of the teacher's voice, and Tom got out of his trance and looked around. In that one corner, people were packed together. He couldn't really see anyone's faces, but the familiar voices were all whispering and shushing and smiling.

Tom focused on their voices before he got bored, and eventually, that harsh bell started ringing, and they left. Tom packed up quickly, glad it was over. He hurried as best he could-- he needed time to talk to Amy.

Tom rushed out of the classroom, pulling past people and breaking apart groups to get through. He saw Amy with Joe and them, and noticed how most of the school was crowded over here in that one area, surrounding a group of people. It left his mind quickly, though. He just had to get to Amy.

And so he did, moving past and around people and walking faster than others, until he was standing right in front of her. She was talking to a few other people, but their faces were hardly a blur in his head. And she just kept talking, not even looking at him. He only had a few minutes until break was over.

"Amy Lawrence, I need to talk to you." Tom said. Amy had been in the middle of a sentence, and turned to him, the smile in her talking mouth vanishing to a closed, sad line. He didn't even look at anyone besides her.

"Now's not the time, Tom." She looked around, an uncomfortable laugh coming to her face.

"Amy." Tom started running a hand through his hair. "We're talking about this right now. So do you want it to be in front of them or not?" Tom asked, motioning towards the group without looking. Most of the school was over here, and so Amy looked around, a sheepish frown and a redness coming to her face.

She walked quietly away, and Tom followed until they were in a part of the courtyard away from most people.

"What do you want, Tom?" Her voice sounded tired. He was tired, too.

"Why did you tell Becky I kissed you back?" He asked. He hated the words. Saying it even now gave him an aching feeling. Amy just looked down at her shoes, kicking the dirt in wait.

"Amy," Tom sighed. He thought of Huck and thought of the boy from the woods. "Amy, I... I'm sorry. I just need to know. And what I said back at the river was harsh, and I didn't mean to make you feel like..." He paused again, and Amy looked up.

He could see a sad shine in her eyes. Tom glanced away. "I didn't want you to feel bad about it. I was just surprised. I didn't want you to kiss me." He said. He ran a hand through his hair, piecing together words and thoughts. Heat came to his face, his hands, and he continued messing his hair. Thinking of the whole situation made him feel a little sick. "I do love Becky, and... Well, I just wish things came out differently." He said. Amy continued kicking the dirt.

He glanced at her again. "I'm sorry I don't think of you the way you want me to. You've always been just so nice to me and to Becky, and so I thought we had both moved on. But, um, I guess I was wrong." Tom continued, hoping she would say something instead of just standing there; Hoping that bringing this all up wasn't useless; Hoping he fixed things between them.

Amy looked up, and he looked back at her, and they studied each other's faces.

"Tom, I..." Amy's eyes closed for a moment, and she kicked the ground again. "I'm sorry. I should've just minded my own business after you started dating Becky. I--"

"Really?" Becky's voice came from a few yards away.

Tom and Amy looked over, seeing her standing by the tree with her friends, staring at them. Tom's face flushed, and a violent quick buzz set into his stomach.

"Can't you two hang out somewhere other than right in front of my face?" Becky asked angrily. Her hair waved with the movement as she spoke. Tom's mind and heart skidded and he stopped thinking, seeing Becky huff and smooth her dress and quickly turn around, storming away with her friends, radiating that strong, angry feeling she gave off.

Tom took a step, but then Amy's hand came to his arm, pulling him back. She looked at him, and he looked worriedly back.

"I can talk to her for you." Amy said, then skipped and walked and ran in an uneven pattern, trying to catch up with Becky while also not drawing too much attention. Tom watched them both go until they merged through the crowds and they were lost. His body condensed and suffocated with everything that kept happening. At least Amy might help him fix this.

The courtyard filled with noise and with people, all swarming around someone he couldn't see or hear. He headed to Mr. Dobbins' class early, nothing else to do. Hopefully Amy would help him out. All he could do was wait and hope.


	17. Chapter 17

Tom came back to the woods that night.

He sat under the trees in the same spot as last time, staring up, up. A buzz was in him and wouldn't leave, wouldn't go away no matter how long he sat and breathed. All he could do was think of the moment in the school yard during break.

His future, his life depended on Amy, the girl who had ruined it in the first place.

"I'm doomed." Tom sighed to himself and the night air.

"I hope not. Thought you were Tom!" The boy's voice came. Tom flinched—the boy's sudden noise sent nerves up Tom's body. The boy could see that—it was a bit lighter tonight, and they could see eachother silhouetted.

"Sorry." The boy spoke again. Through the dark, Tom looked and saw the edges of his figure as he sat down next to Tom. "So. Tell me why you're doomed."

Tom sighed and shook his head. Leaned towards the boy enough to hear him breathe and know he was real. "I apologized like you said. But," Tom huffed out air, feeling a weight come to him as if he was reliving it. "Becky saw and misinterpreted it. So Amy said she would talk to her."

"Great. I sure give some amazin' advice, right?" He said, nudging Tom, who smiled lightly. He looked up through the dark towards the obscured sky. The smell of the forest felt amplified.

"Sure, yeah-- but what if Amy doesn't help? She started this all."

"Well, you can't help that. You'd gotta do what you can."

Tom combed his fingers through his hair, then let his hand fall back down onto the leaves and dirt. "It'll be okay, though." The boy said. "You just gotta trust her." Tom turned to him again, even though he could only see his silhouette.

"What about you? How're you faring so far?" Tom asked. He could hear the ruffle of the boy's clothes as he shrugged.

"Oh, I'm doin' well. Getting my bearings like I should, I guess." He said. "It's been a while."

"A while? Since what?" Tom asked. He swallowed.

"Well, since I been back."

"Back? You travel through here often? I haven't ever seen you around town before." Tom said. He tried harder to see the boy's face through the dark, but still all he could see was the ghost of an impression in his mind.

"Well... wow. You forgotten me so soon, Tom?"

"Uh... I— Sorry. Maybe so, but you expect me to recognize a face when the sky is so dark? ...Or maybe you're playing with me." Tom said. A redness was forming in his face. He ran a hand through his hair to hide it, not that the boy could've seen.

"I ain't playing."

"Well...Maybe I need sleep, then. After a good night, I'll come back and know right 'way who you are. Hopefully it'll be lighter out." Tom said. His breaths quickened at the sudden on-the-spot-ness. "... I haven't seen you in the daylight yet. Where have you been staying at since you've come? It's awfully late for you to be out here."

"Yeah, well you two, Tom. I'd-a thought you'd be right to bed after the sun, since the day would've taken this toll on you. But," The boy took a breath, and Tom could hear the air move around the boy's arm as he motioned around. "I've been in these woods."

"The woods? Like... sleeping out here? This ground is too rough to sleep on!"

"Yeah, I know." He said. "...But I've been thinkin' the Widow Douglas might take me in. What do you reckon?"

"Oh, she's awful nice." Tom said. He talked quickly, trying to carry the conversation far from him not recognizing the boy. Away from the embarrassment. "She'd take you in." He said and ran a hand through his hair. "Anyway, um, if you're staying out here, I should go and let you sleep." Tom nodded to himself. He needed to get back anyway. "And I gotta think on how I know you." Tom said, but still stayed. Maybe if his eyes adjusted enough, he would see who he was.

He listened to the boys breaths, and thought he felt something forming in his stomach. That smell of trees, of dirt, of grass and leaves... He thought he felt something so familiar, so deeply-rooted--

"Well, what is it? Did you remember me?"

"No, I... I, uh..." Tom smiled quickly, leaning towards the boy again. He glanced down, looked through the dark at their two hands close together, keeping them both steady on the forest floor. A buzz was in his stomach. "I don't know." Tom swallowed the dark. "But thanks for you letting me talk with you."

"No problem. 'ts been a while since I really talked with a person."

"...But aren't you a traveler? You must've talked with loads of folks."

"A retired one, at that. And it's hard to get to know someone when you're sayin' bye the next day." The boy said.

"Oh. I guess so..." Tom said. "Well, I guess I'll see you again. I gotta be off or my Aunt'll whip me for being out past curfew."

"Bye'a, Tom." The boy said. Tom liked the way he said it; a little like they were friends, good friends.

Tom nodded and got up, brushed himself off, and left.

If only he could see the boy in the light. Hear his voice with a face. Even if he saw the boy somewhere else, he'd be able to match it to that voice. Then he would surely know who he was.

It was dirt-dark coming out of the woods, with that rough ground under his feet making him hurry along. And then it was light under those gas lamps, and he could feel that stillness in the air again at being alone.

He couldn't wait to see the boy again. To figure out who he was.

Tom hurried along home.


	18. Chapter 18

Tom got back from the woods.

He had snuck in and gotten into bed and all, but just laid there for hours. He couldn't stop thinking about the boy, or about Amy, or about Becky. About all the hurt that had happened between all of them.

Surely Amy had talked to Becky by now? But there was no way to tell. Either way, though, the pounding in Tom's heart had stayed through the whole night. The feeling of being uneasy, of falling and dropping, continued in his stomach while he laid there. It made him sick. All these thoughts, and yet he just wanted to fall asleep and wake up for the morning. All these thoughts and he couldn't make them go away. A dread settled in him-- a steady discomfort and awakeness, preventing him from sleeping. He just wished he could close his eyes and calm himself. He felt sick.

Sick until the cold dawn brushed into his room. Pre-sun, where the air was still dark but he could tell it was about to be light out. Today was a Saturday, though, and his only other usual chance of seeing Becky this week would be on Sunday. In church.

He needed to talk to her, but this was not going to happen there.

Tom got himself out of bed, feeling sickly and not rested at all. His beating heart and tired legs moved him forwards. He hadn't even changed out of his clothes from yesterday, and he wouldn't go back and waste time and change clothes now. He needed to see Becky before tomorrow. He needed to resolve this.

Tom thumped down the stairs as quietly as he could, avoiding the creaking parts of the grainy old stairs. Saturday morning, awake before the fast dawn.

He left the house quickly, a wind sweeping through him and through the air around him as he went down the street. He felt the gravel and the dirt against his toes, rough then soft then sharp again. Breezes pulled into his hair, pushing the curls down to his eyes. Nobody was up, yet, except for him. The air was still dark.

He reached Becky's house, and the last bits of pre-dawn were still lingering.

He knocked. Knocked on that big door, and the tiredness of the morning reappeared all around him. With that unnerving feeling of the door opening, of it all starting, he could see that tiredness in Judge Thatcher's eyes upon seeing Tom Sawyer standing at his door one more time.

"I see you're here again, Tom."

"Yessir', I am."

"What do you want?" The Judge's voice spoke with all the feelings in his eyes. With his exhaustion and his annoyance, and perhaps a nervousness-- Tom couldn't tell at all.

"I would like to speak with Becky." Tom glanced around, looking at the early parts of sunrise. It was probably too early for this. He turned back to Judge Thatcher, who was staring at him.

"Go home, boy." A yawn pulled through his voice, and Tom shook his head. "Stop coming to my house when I'm trying to sleep. It's a Saturday, for goodness' sake!"

"I know, sir, but--"

"Boy, you ought to leave. A Saturday and you're up and at our door at dawn."

Tom looked back at him sadly, running a hand through his hair.

"Go! I didn't tell your Aunt about last time. Maybe I should have." He said, staring questioningly at Tom, who quieted a moment and looked right on back.

But he couldn't let this moment pass, so Tom took in a breath to start, and as he did, the Judge looked around, exacerbated. He'd have to make it quick.

"Yeah, okay. You can do that-- it's fine. But sir, I really gotta speak with Becky." Tom said, unmoving. Judge Thatcher leaned his head against the side of the door, closing his eyes a moment.

"Boy..." Mr. Thatcher started, but then stopped, exhaling sharply and lifting his head from the door frame, shaking it. "Alright, alright. Fine! I'll go and fetch her. Just don't bother me in the middle of the night ever again." He said, turning.

He took a dragging slow step, then stopped and turned again, back towards Tom. "But, Tom..." The man sighed. "You sure've caused my Becky a lot of turmoil. All this week she's been upset at you." Mr. Thatcher said, and Tom met his eyes-- hardly-- and saw it. In the tired way the skin creased around them, and in the way the light shone and glinted and stayed, there was a stress and a fatigue. Tom's stomach fell and ached and pooled into black inside him.

Judge Thatcher continued and went through his house, not bothering to close the big front door behind him. So Tom stood there, watching him go into the darkness of their predawn unlit big home. He stared forwards, not caring to look at their furniture like he would've-- he had never really seen the inside of their home before, but now all he could think of was Becky. Hopefully Amy had talked to her: otherwise, he would just be tearing her heart again.

Tom heard their steps coming back to the door. His heart quickened, his breaths fastening around it tightly, compressing, crushing it. Judge Thatcher brought her to the door. Her hair with its curls was all messed, the edges of it frizzed out and flattened in different spots. She looked at Tom and met his eyes for the first time in a while. It made Tom's body mold like waves, made the air in him turn and curve and mix and curl over itself.

Judge Thatcher gave Tom a quick look, a glance, and then turned and went back inside, leaving Becky and him at the big open doorway.


	19. Chapter 19

They stood in the doorway and looked at each other sadly.

"Hi, Becky." Tom's voice was light and soft, he knew, but it sounded so loud in his head and in this morning air. He looked quickly behind him. The sun was coming through.

"Come here. Follow me a minute?" Tom asked, turning and stepping away from her house towards the street. He looked back at Becky to see if she would follow and saw her sigh and look around, pull her arms around her chest. She tugged her nightgown closer to her skin. Then she, with her light and quick steps, followed him. A slight slow hopeful smile came to the edges of Tom's mouth. He continued walking until he was in the middle of the dirt road, staring east. Becky stood a few feet behind him.

"Did Amy talk to you, yet?" He asked. He kept staring towards the sky with its sun, too scared to look at her again. His heart vibrated, shuddering through him. Heat was in his face and his hands.

"Yes, she did."

"What did she say?" Tom asked. His heart beat faster, still.

"That what she said before wasn't true." Becky said, and Tom closed his eyes, head tilting up. Thank goodness Amy helped him. Tom felt a wash of white blue, of sun, come over him. "But..." Becky sighed. Tom opened his eyes, saw the sun, and turned towards her. The light spun off the edges of her tangled hair, glowing like an aura and a halo around her. "You two still did kiss, though." She said. Tom stepped towards her, shook his head.

"She kissed me. I didn't even know it was happening until it was over." He said. Becky looked up a moment. "I swear it, Becky." His eyes, his expressions, the turn of his body, all pleaded with her.

"Well..." She took one of her arms and smoothed down her dress. Brought it back to her chest, her arms wrapping around themselves again. She exhaled, closing her eyes a moment. "I still have to think about everything. Get over that shock, I believe." She said and sighed. She looked out at the rising morning. The air hummed around them in its morning dew. "Tom," She shook her head and glanced around. "I'm sorry. I should've believed you over her, but... I don't know. I just," She shrugged, and the bottom of her dress turned and shook slightly with the movement. "I just can't always place you, Tom."

"I... It's still my fault. I should've done something else. But Becky," He said, and a curve came to his eyebrows-- A tilt up, sad. A darkness came to his mind at the thought that Becky couldn't tell. Couldn't decide... "Becky, I love you. Not anyone else, ever." He said. "Not Amy. Just you."

They looked at each other, looked away. Silence grew in the rising black to blue air. He just wanted her to believe him. He wanted her to realize just how he would never have kissed Amy back.

"Then I'm sorry I didn't believe you." She said. "But is that all? We could've talked at church tomorrow." She shifted her weight and adjusted her dress. "So why are we out here, Tom?" She asked, and her tone was tired, half-hearted. She had a mixed look in her eyes that he couldn't place no matter how he looked back.

"I," Tom sighed, ran a hand through his hair. He took another few steps towards her until he was by her side, and then he turned, staring towards the sky again. "I just wanted to show you the sunrise."

"I see it every day, Tom." She said. Her words were foggy in thought.

"But never just standing. With me." He said. He had a wanting, a pull, in him. She looked up. There was a discomfort that Tom didn't want.

They watched the sky turn blue and glow in streaks of red and orange and pink filling the sky, eastward and fading out, away. Clouds were grey compared to it all. "Amy took that sunset from us... I wanted something new." Tom said.

He could feel the closeness of her arm to his, of her hand from his.

"The beginning of every day together." He said. He could see her looking at him, and he looked back. A quizzical look was in her shiny eyes.

"Tom... Are you proposing?" She asked, and a rush came to him. A burn. A sudden turning in his stomach. His head and his body pulled away from her.

"No. I--" He glanced away, his eyes widening, panicked. She looked away quickly, a redness coming to her cheeks, too. "Do you want it to be a proposal?" He asked, and his voice was in a whisper-shout, suddenly breathy. He brought his hand up to run through his hair.

"Well, I don't know, Tom! I still got a lot to think on!" She said, her hands coming down fast to her sides, pulling at the bottom edges of her dress.

"Alright, okay!" Their words were suddenly fighting, confused. "Well," Tom started. He didn't know how to pick back up. The air gained a cold silence.   
He ran a hand through his hair again. "Well, Becky," He composed himself, putting an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, "if I was proposing," which he had no intention of doing right now, "I would want it to be much more special than something like this. I would want you to know for sure that I love you. It ain't suited to get married right after you think I went and liked another girl. And we gotta get married when you love me too." He looked at her, put his chin on the top of her head softly. His heart beat deep.

"Oh, Tom, of course I love you."

"You do, Becky?" He said, moving his head back and looking at her face again. "...I'll propose to you in a way that matters. I promise. Just a bit more time, and then we'll be married and together. Until death, right? Something as big as is suited for a beautiful girl like you." He smiled, and she smiled back.

"Alright, Tom. For now, though, let's figure things out." She said, her hands coming up to run through his hair. "Take it slow for now." Her face came up to his. Their warm bodies came together as they kissed, and a swirling feeling started, and a risen glow formed in the sun and the reunited whole of their hearts. And they watched the sunrise in the street, in each other's arms, together again.


	20. Chapter 20

When the sun was up in the sky, Becky went inside.

Tom walked back to his own house, feeling light, finally with a full grin on his face. He opened and closed that old creaky door as quietly as he could, going through the house and up to his room. He went into his room, falling onto his bed, his hands coming up to his head. A muffled laugh left him. His face pressed against his sheets.

His closed eyes replayed the sun, the glow in Becky's eyes, and the wideness of the morning air. The first good day in a while. His sheets were soft and worn against his tired face. The air of the house was so quiet, and he settled in that silence of early daylight. In that warm feeling, buzzing through him and staying in his chest. The air was cold against his skin, and had been, but he could only feel it now-- The outside of him touching the freshness of the air, and the inside of him, a fever spreading. Tom smiled against the sheets, feeling so light and swirling. He felt alright again.

The next day, Tom went to church.

Aunt Polly was up early, moving around in the kitchen. The noise of her lifting pots and pans-- of the metal clacking against another metal, of the scrapes and thumps of cooking-- woke him up, and his eyes drearily looked around his room, out the window at the sun, hardly lit. He felt a tiredness, even with being used to getting up this early, and wanted to go back to bed.

Tom let his head fall down to his pillow again, his face against it. The darkness of it surrounded his eyes as if it was the middle of the night.

"Tom! Sid!" Aunt Polly called their names in her thin voice. Tom pushed his head against the pillow harder, even with hardly able to breathe through all the fabric. "Boys, get down here! I'm not suited for yelling like this." She said, and Tom sat up, sighed, and leaned out of bed. It couldn't be helped; he would just have to be tired. Tom turned his body, his feet hanging over the edge of his bed. He got up, and his feet hit the cold hard floor, and he shuffled to find nice clothes to wear, even though it was always Aunt Polly and Becky with an eye for these things, not him.

Tom did his best and got dressed, and as he took off one shirt and replaced it with another, the air hit him coldly.

Now dressed, he walked out of his room and down those creaky steps. The noises were quiet and short and sharp, and then low and thick and as if the step would break, even though they've held up for years and years.

He could hear Sid's door open and close like wind, and could hear Sid's feet padding down the stairs, could feel Sid's bony and sharp shoulder bump against his. It took Tom off his balance, and made him stop; Sid moved past him, each step hardly a second on each stair, not enough time for them to even creak. And then Sid was at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at Aunt Polly.

"Why, thank you, Sid. Tom, hurry yourself up!" She said it in one small breath-- praising Sid, like she had been for years, and then the rest. Tom kept walking again, sighing, letting his eyes roll up to glance at the ceiling. Always a competition he was losing to Sid-- always something for Aunt Polly to get on him about. That turning hot feeling came back to his stomach, and his eyes thinned down to a tired, finished look. He reached the bottom of the steps.

"Come and get yourself food, Tom. We'll be going in a few minutes." Aunt Polly said. She had made eggs, and Tom got himself a plate of them. They ate and then Aunt Polly rushed them out the door.

They could see other families making their way towards the church. "Hurry yourselves up, boys." Aunt Polly said, but her own steps were slow. Moving like she was wading through water. Tom and Sid walked beside her, their hands hovering by her back as they walked. Their feet moved slowly across the old dirt roads.

When they got to the building, went inside to sit, it was already mostly full. They walked slowly to empty spots and sat next to each other, Aunt Polly being the barrier to Tom and Sid. Aunt Polly set her things down and then got up again.

"Why don't you two socialize with your neighbors?" Aunt Polly said, hardly turning to them before walking slowly through the room, her face stretching to smile at the people she approached.

Tom looked around. He just wanted to see Becky. From his seat, Tom looked past faces and smiled at others. He looked and looked and could hardly hear the soft footsteps coming up to him.

"Hello, Tom." Becky said in her gentle voice, and Tom looked to the noise.

"Oh, hi, Becky." He ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

"Well don't I get a greeting?" Sid interjected, and Becky looked over. Tom glared at him quickly.

"Oh, hi, Sid. It's been a while since I've seen you." She said, smiling with a closed mouth.

"That was probably the last time he's taken a shower-- say, Becky," Tom smiled at Sid's scoff, his flusters, and Becky closed her eyes a moment, shook her head, a smile still lingering. "You look real nice today."

"Thank you, Tom. You both look well-put." She said, and then the pastor came to the front of the room and told everyone to take their seats. "See you later, boys." Becky said, walking quickly to where she should be.

Aunt Polly came back and looked at Tom a moment. There was a frown on her face that immediately spread to Tom's.

"We'll talk after." She said, and it left a jumping, a spiking in Tom's breath and heart. But then Aunt Polly looked away and the expression left her face as if it was hardly there at all. And Tom sat and stood and sang through the whole thing, a worry building in the back of him.

The service and the whole thing ended, and they left the church house slowly. People lingered and talked, but Aunt Polly told Tom and Sid to wait while she said her quick goodbyes. They started back home quickly.

As they walked, Tom kicked his shoes against the dirt road, feeling the gritty slide as he did so. Tom hadn't even had a chance to talk with Becky after the service-- Aunt Polly would've given him a look and maybe a whipping if he had walked away from Sid when she told them to wait there.

He was already tired-- he hoped Aunt Polly would just beat him and send him to bed early.

They reached the house and they went inside. Aunt Polly told him to change his clothes, and he did so quickly, hoping Aunt Polly wouldn't see fit to give him a spanking. Sid went to the top of the stairs and waited and watched with one of his sour grins as Tom went back down and Aunt Polly led him to the back of the house.

"Now, I heard from Judge Thatcher in church today." Aunt Polly said, and Tom held in a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Well? Look at me, Tom." She said, and he dropped his hand, his eyes flicking to hers.   
She may have been old and short, but in her eyes and her shriveled voice there was still a harshness that always struck him. "I heard that you have gone to his house in the middle of the night, on multiple occasions. Now why would you do that, Tom? Up and interrupt their sleep?" She asked.   
Tom took a breath, opening his mouth. "I don't wanna hear it, Tom. How dare you embarrass me like that! Now pick up these buckets. I'm too tired to be doing heavy lifting." She said, motioning down to buckets of whitewash. Tom exhaled slowly, a sad decompression in his chest.

He picked up the buckets, and Aunt Polly bent down and picked up a big brush. She led him slowly over to their fence on the other side of the house. "The only reason you should'a interrupted their night was to tell Becky Thatcher you want to marry her. Now, you ought to whitewash this fence until it looks fresh as when it was put in here. Don't come to me before that saying it's done." She said, and handed him the brush. The comment left Tom motionless for a moment, and then she shook the brush in her hand to draw his attention back.

"I'm awfully sorry, Aunt Polly. But I had to--"

"I don't wanna hear it, I said! Get to whitewashing, Tom." She said, and Tom bent down, dipping the brush into the thinned white paint. She started to walk away, then, back inside. "I'm getting too old for this..." Tom could hear her say, and he looked back sadly at her, a darkened, aching curl coming to his heart. He sighed and painted the fence.

The whitewash had faded since last time. It had gotten darker, dirtier, and in other spots chipped, showing the streaky, chipped wood.

He continued.


	21. Chapter 21

The sunlight grew hotter, and the paint dried in some spots and he kept painting in others. He just wanted to be done and go hang out with Becky, or be done and take a nap.

His eyes tired of seeing the white of the paint and the harshness of the sun. Aunt Polly checked in at some points, nodding or shaking her head, and then left Tom to his work again.

It must've been around lunchtime when Amy and Joe and them came by, walking down the street. Becky wasn't with them.

"Hey, guys." Tom said as they approached. He met eyes with Amy for a second, and a nervousness wobbled and tipped in him. "Amy," He put his arm down and turned to her, swallowing. The whitewash dripped off the brush. "I talked to Becky. Thank you; it means a lot." He said, smiling nervously. Amy nodded, and a dullness was brought to her eyes. She blinked it away and smiled back.

"Did it for you, Tom. Sorry about it happening in the first place." She said, and Tom shrugged. A discomfort was brought to the air. Tom could tell that Amy was sad, but then against she hardly let it show, like she was holding it back. They all looked at each other in silence for a moment. Tom wasn't sure if they knew what happened, but... They probably did. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, anyway.

"Say, Tom, you whitewashing?" Ben Rogers asked from the back of the group. The air was picked back up again, and Tom nodded, turned back to the fence.

"My favorite past-time." Tom said, continuing. "What brings you all over here?" Tom asked, dipping the brush back in the paint.

"We're walking, is all. Wanted to see them set up the fair." Ben said.

"The fair? When's that?" Tom asked, glancing briefly to them.

"It's today, Tom." Someone else said, and Tom's thoughts were moving past the voice already.

"Oh." Tom said. He already had too much to do to go.

"You forgot? It's all Amy's been talking 'bout." Joe said. Tom shook his head. Sighed. He needed to go for Becky, but... He couldn't.

"I gotta whitewash this fence. I ain't even halfway done-- but I hope you all have fun." Tom ran his empty hand through his hair.

"Well, shucks, Tom." Ben said. "Becky's been looking forward to this for weeks!" Ben scratched his face.

"I know." Tom replied disappointedly. This would've been perfect for getting things back to normal.

"Say, grab another brush and let me whitewash a little." Ben said.

"Yeah, we ain't had anything to do all day. We can help you out." Joe said.

"Aunt Polly might give me a whipping." Tom replied. "But..." He needed this. "Oh, alright. Thanks, you guys." Tom said. He set down the brush he had been using and went to the back of the house. He looked around and grabbed a few more brushes. He moved quickly, but--

"What're you doing, Tom?" Sid asked, coming outside.

"None of your business, Sid." Tom said. But a nervousness rose in him; if Sid found out, Aunt Polly would hear of it in seconds. "But if you gotta know, my brush broke. So I had to fetch me a new one." Tom said. Sid frowned, looked away. Went back inside, and the pounding in Tom's heart continued. He wasn't sure Sid believed him.

But then he heard Sid go up the creaky stairs, satisfied and bored with Tom's answer. Tom got some brushes and hurried back to the fence.

"I got a debt to you guys." Tom shook his head, handing them brushes. Amy stood and watched them paint.

"Oh, it ain't even work." Ben said.

They dipped their brushes into the whitewash and started painting. The paint dried as they conversed, and they made multiple layers.

The fence was starting to look better than it ever had, even with the drips of paint on the ground by it.

They talked and laughed quietly as they painted, and Amy kept the conversation going when everyone else was focused on whitewashing. It was better company than being by himself, Tom thought. It was good he had them to rely on, even with everything that's happened.

The job went by faster than it should've, and within an hour or so of the hot day's sun, they were done. They handed their brushes back to Tom.

"So you'll come, right?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll come. I'll head down there with Becky in an hour or a few."

"We better be on our way, then. They're probably mostly set up by now." Amy said, lightly kicking a foot against the dirt in wait.

"See you guys. Thanks again." Tom said, taking the brushes and the buckets to the back of the house. He washed the brushes off and put everything away. His clothes had some specks of paint on them, but that would just make Aunt Polly feel better about him doing the painting.

Tom went inside the house, and wandered until he found Aunt Polly sitting on a chair in the living room.

"Aunt Polly, I'm finished." Tom said. He could hear Sid leave his room and listen at the top of the stairs, and Tom glanced at him, glaring. Sid smiled tensely and bitterly back.

"Already, Tom?" She asked, getting up. She set the teacup and tea tray she had been holding down onto a nearby table. "Let's see it. I told you, don't come to me if it's not done."

"Oh, it's done, Aunt Polly. Put my sweat and tears into it."

"Yeah, right." Sid said, an edge to his voice. He came down the stairs, following Tom and Aunt Polly to see the fence. Tom had a smile on his face as he walked, leading them to the fence.

The sun hit their backs with a heat, and on Tom's already sun-worn face, it burned. But he stood still, watching Aunt Polly and Sid inspect the fence.

"Well, Tom, it looks great." Aunt Polly said. She walked slowly around it, seeing the fresh white on the whole fence. "Good job, boy. You're free to go do as you want, now, but... Just don't bother Judge Thatcher."

"But Aunt Polly!" Sid's voice had a swing, a whine, to it. Aunt Polly shushed him.

"I won't, Aunt Polly." Tom smiled. He walked back inside, bumping into Sid as he walked past.

"Aunt Polly, didn't you see that?"

"Hmm? See what, Sid?" Aunt Polly asked, turning from looking at the fence. Tom walked quicker inside, a lightness to his bounding steps.

"Why, you must be old and blind if you didn't see Tom knock into me just then!"   
The air froze for a moment.

"Old and blind? Why, Sid!" Tom could hear Sid suck in a breath. "Oh, how dare you! Go on up to your room, boy!" She said. Tom could just barely hear it from the house, but still it made him smile.

He walked up those creaking steps to his room, ready to get changed out of these dirty clothes.


	22. Chapter 22

His smile fell.

Walking into his room, Tom could see that Sid had been in here.

The bookshelf had books all out of the order they had been in, and some books were laid out on the floor, stacked or thrown to the side. Tom closed his eyes and ran a hot hand through his hair. Tom exhaled. Quick, turning, harsh air came out of him. Tom's steps, now heavy, thumped against his floor as he went to his door, about to slam it closed. He saw Sid in the hall.

Sid, meeting his eyes, suddenly ran to his own room, closing the door quickly.

"Sid," The name was elongated in Tom's angry voice, a sudden change from a few minutes ago. Tom walked after him.

He went to Sid's door and opened it quickly, the breeze from it like a wind pulling into the room. Sid's eyes were wide, staring back at Tom. "Stop going through my things!" Tom said, his voice sharp and deep and angry, and then he slammed Sid's door closed again and went to his own room with a huff in his breaths.

Tom stepped on over to his bookshelf, angrily swiping at the books on the ground and pushing them back into the bookshelf.

He looked for the brown journal, his anger as a steady heat in his stomach. He saw it on the bookshelf, and the anger around him was subdued into a current, ebbing sharply and hotly in his stomach and under his warm skin. The frustration was in the back of his mind, but... It couldn't stay. The journal was fine, and that was all that mattered. He took it back out and sat on the ground, flipping through it. The sketch of Huck was still there. Tom took a cold breath, a deep sigh.

The sharp anger turned to a rocking, unsteady feeling in his gut.

He wasn't used to going out and adventuring anymore. Even the thought of the fair made him nervous. Even with all those friends of his... The adventures they used to have... It was different without Huck. Tom was more alone, now, he thought, staring at the drawing. More alone in the outcomes-- If he wasn't friends with Amy and Becky, he would have no one. He had realized that in the days he avoided them. Tom sighed. Becky wanted him to come, so he would. No matter what could happen, she would be there for him, now. They were together again.

Tom put the drawing into the pages of the journal again, and set it gently back into the bookshelf, between all the other old books and notebooks he had. He would be alright. For Becky.

Tom changed his clothes to nicer ones, getting ready to go. The feeling lingered, and he moved around his room, ignoring it. He didn't have a reason to be so nervous about this, anyway. He'd gone to these before. Tom smoothed down his shirt and sat on his bed. He thought of Becky and of Huck, and of everything. It would be strange, but... Tom sighed, rubbed his eyes.

It would be alright, because Becky would be there.

But, still, maybe something would go wrong, because Tom's sickly swirling feeling was still there. He pushed it down as best he could, but that fear, that excitement in his throat wouldn't leave. The anticipation was hopefully worse than actually attending. Tom sighed. However it went, it would happen eventually. He looked to the window in his room. It was streaked with dust and with night-- the air was starting to get dark, now. Tom hurried up and left his room. He closed the door behind himself quietly, slowly, hoping Sid wouldn't take the opportunity to snoop again. He moved slowly down the steps, avoiding the creaks and dips and bends of it, walking downstairs. Aunt Polly was in the living room again, sitting and staring.

"I'll be off with Becky, Aunt Polly." Tom said, running a hand through his hair, putting on his shoes.

"Are you marrying her, yet?" She asked. It gave Tom a shock running through his system. Luckily she didn't wait for a response. "Be back before curfew. I hate waiting up for you." She said, and he nodded, turning towards the front door. But he paused for a moment, then, his eyebrows furrowing a moment. He hadn't realized she does that.

"Okay, Aunt Polly." He said, opening the door to the cooling air outside and closing it off behind him.


	23. Chapter 23

The air outside was much less stuffy than in the house. It had gained the freshness of the afternoon, of night, since when he was out whitewashing.

He walked through the streets, down the dirt roads. These shoes were confining, but... He was picking Becky up, and he didn't want to give Becky's father anything more to dislike about him. Tom walked on down to her house. Some of the gas lamps were on, and others were still being lit. He thought momentarily about leaving. About going to the woods and sitting with the boy. But then he'd have to explain why he was there instead of at the fair, and... Tom sighed. He approached her door. Knocked.

Judge Thatcher opened the door, and Becky was right behind him.

"Hi again, Judge Thatcher. I'm taking Becky on down to the fair tonight." Tom smiled sheepishly, feeling stiff in the way he was standing. He ran a hand through his hair and Becky walked around her father, giving him a smile before she grabbed the door to close it.

"I'll bring her back before curfew!" Tom said as Becky closed the door. She put her warm hand in his and led him down the street, along the golden sun- and lamp-lit dirt road. Her hand was tight, not letting him run away.   
Her hair glowed, and her eyes glowed, and the light made their dirty old small town look fresh and like it had when the whole place was young.   
The sun on them was like a warming breath in the falling cold as they walked. On the way, they could increasingly hear other people and kids talking, and as they followed a bend in the road to the clearing at the edge of town, they could see them.

They could see the gas lamps lighting the area, and a rising moon glowing above everything, and Tom squeezed Becky's hand, seeing it all. He was so glad he was here with someone. With her.

"Let's meet up with Amy and Joe." Becky said. Tom looked over at her.

"Are you... still friends with Amy?" Tom asked lightly, his words filled with pauses, unsure if it was okay to ask. Becky shrugged.

"She explained everything, so it's fine, I think. I... I don't know. We've been friends for so long, it would be hard to stop. As long as I'm there when you're with her, it's fine." Becky smiled, and Tom smiled tightly back. He didn't know if that was good or not.

"Okay." He said. He looked away, seeing the view again. He didn't want to think on it.

He saw the group and walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Becky towards them.

"Hey." Becky smiled when they all met up. Tom walked and stood by Joe and Ben while the girls talked separately.

"Glad you made it, man." Ben said. Joe nodded, and Tom nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. How long did it take for them to set everything up?" Tom asked, looking around. There were some booths with food and drinks, and a few games.

"Not long." Joe said. They all talked, and Tom tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. He wanted Becky to come back from hanging out with the girls and replace the lost warmth in his palms. To make him feel less nervous.

Becky eventually did, and they all talked, all wandered, through the fair.

And eventually the sun faded to the brightened moon, and the orange gas lamps, and the stars. The night was coming in fast, and the air turned blue. And it was soft and humid, and the feeling flowed in Tom's chest. Their talking faded to moments of just walking around and looking at people.

Tom grew tired. They had school tomorrow, after all. But then the silent moments went back to laughing, back to Tom glancing at Becky and seeing a glow in her eyes that he liked, and then the night was revived again, and they continued.

He had missed having this kind of fun, even if he was scared of it, now. Being able to walk around, laughing. Being with other people. The scared, waiting haunt in his stomach had faded to the happy aching and the warmth of being next to Becky.

They played the games in the booths. They got food and went to the benches at the edge of the fair. Over there, it was quieter.   
Ben, Amy, and a few others sat on the benches. Tom stood by them, talking and looking around. The humid air hugged them warmly and let the glows of the fair lights echo. The gas lamps lit up everyone's hair and eyes, and bodies shone as people walked past. The feeling was calm and bright in his stomach, and he wished they had more fairs each year.   
Tom watched people leave, watched them come. Watched Becky laughing with the group. And eventually, during one of these moments of laughing, he looked around.

Tom glanced through the sunset air at all these familiar, usual people. At their clothes, at their faces--   
And saw someone new. Tom's expression widened, and the turn in his stomach came back. Through the air, that someone looked back. And Tom saw eyes he hadn't seen in ages, but still remembered.

That feeling of a nervousness and not knowing why, he could place it. It was the feeling he was getting right now. Of missing someone. Of seeing Huckleberry Finn back in St. Petersburg after five years of waiting.


	24. Chapter 24

Huckleberry Finn approached them. He had that confident, wide, strutting gait of his, even after all this time. He walked slowly over until he was a part of the group, standing next to Tom.

He was warm. He was real. And he was glancing over at Tom with a quizzical look in his eyes Tom couldn't place, and the edges of a smile on that familiar and grown face.

Tom felt his energy and the feeling of being next to Huckleberry Finn overwhelm him, with his tall form. From the corner of his eye, he could see Becky looking at Tom strangely, wanting to meet his eyes, even though Tom was focused on Huck.

"Are you alright, Tom?" Becky asked lightly, and still Tom couldn't look away. That curling feeling in him just magnified.

"It's..." Tom took a breath. His voice was uneven. "It's Huck." He said. Everyone else looked at each other confusedly.

"So ya' remember me. Took you a while, didn't it?" Huck smiled lightly, and that voice. That voice, the same deepness, the same richness and familiarity--

"That was you!" Tom's eyebrows raised, and his eyes were wide, and his hands came up to his hair. Everything in him was magnetic, was quick and sharp and alive at once. He felt dizzy. "That..." Tom looked around. "How long have you been back?" He asked.

"Around a week or two now, Tom." Joe said. Tom pulled his eyes away from Huck's face, back towards Becky and everyone else's.   
They all knew.   
They had known Huckleberry Finn was back, and yet this was the first time Tom realized.

"What?" Tom asked bewilderedly. The excitement of the air dimmed to quiet. They affirmed. They knew and he didn't. This wasn't news to them anymore, somehow. And Tom was left in his own mind, wondering how he hadn't known. He stared at Huck's face. There was a new depth in the boy's eyes. And his face had new wrinkles and lines, and was sharper than Tom remembered. Huck was more grown up.

Tom looked around, perplexed, isolated. They all, including Huck, started walking again, wandering through the different booths.   
He had to follow.   
Tom didn't get it, though—they knew, and yet never said anything. This was too fast.   
Tom had to subdue the wonder in seeing Huck, the feeling of being caught off-guard. If he could tell it was Huckleberry Finn by just his eyes, then how had it taken so long for him to know he had been back?

...He had been distracted with Becky and Amy, he reckoned, but... He should've known.

Tom didn't realize, but he had slowed to the back of the group. Huck was second to last, and with his slow pace, Huck, talking with everyone else, delayed the group's pace. Even with the slow stroll, Tom was lagging behind. It was so overwhelming. Tom had just realized Huck was here, and yet everyone was already back to normal. They all expected Tom to get over it this fast? Huck was walking, talking, looking at all of them as if he had always been here. His best friend was right here! Alive. Solid. More than just a stranger in the woods. More than a dream, a drawing.

Becky slowed until she was beside Tom, and she took his hand and made him walk faster, guiding him to rejoin the others. But Tom just wanted to slow down, to stop and to talk to Huck. The moon and the stars and sounds and lights of the fair didn't matter anymore; he wanted the stillness of a night in the woods. Time to talk to Huckleberry Finn.

Tom breathed, looked at Becky. Smiled as she met his eyes. The night would be over soon enough, he reckoned, seeing his own nervous reflection in her eyes. He was splitting himself in two to keep up. He blinked and saw the soft glows of all these lights in her eyes, on her skin, in her hair.

He walked with them. He had to. Becky squeezed his hand whenever he drifted off to thought, and he would look at her and smile and pick up their conversations again.

Eventually the night calmed. The booths packed up, and the darkness settled too deep to see past the glows of the lamps and the light of the moon. And they made their way back towards town. Tom still couldn't understand fully. It was so strange, so sudden, and yet he was expected to be calm about this.

The fair was ending. The night dimmed, and their conversations had turned to low voices and laughs and a calm as they walked through the fair. Tom could see Huck slow behind the group, hardly even saying his goodbyes before turning and walking to the woods.   
Tom wanted to follow him. He wanted to talk— Huck had hardly even looked at him tonight. Why?

Becky squeezed his hand. Tom's head swirled. Eventually, they were done. Tom walked Becky home.

"Did you enjoy the fair, Tom?" Becky asked.

"Yeah, um... I think I did. I'm glad you brought me." He said. Becky smiled and squeezed his hand before she parted from him, going inside. It left his hand cold, but still he smiled.

Tom made his way back towards his house, but... He sighed.   
He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Hopefully Aunt Polly had forgotten about him being out, because it was already past curfew. And instead of going inside, Tom turned back and went to the woods.


	25. Chapter 25

Tom tripped over his own feet, and tripped over knotted roots and his own shoelaces. Despite how rough the ground would be, Tom took off his shoes. He knew the ground better when he was against the earth, feeling it. And the leaves and twigs scratched at him and poked into his feet, keeping him present.

He continued, and lights and voices of the lingering fair nearby all faded to silence and breezes and his own breaths. And then Huck's breath, a few feet away.

"Hey." Tom said. He could hear Huck sit up from where he was against the ground.

"You're back." Huck said. Tom couldn't tell what was in his voice, but just hearing it at all brought a nervous tinging warmth to Tom's breath.

"You're back." Tom said. He leaned down, feeling the ground and then sitting on it beside Huck.

"You enjoyin' the fair?" Huck asked. Leaves fell and scattered around them. The forest quieted around their words.

"What? Yeah-- Huck, you're back. This is news!"

"Yeah, Tom, I am. But that ain't news to me; I've been back a while." Huck said.

"Well... I didn't know about it! How've you been faring out there?" Tom said. He took a step closer to Huck to see him better in the darkening air.

"...You really didn't know t's me?"

"How could I? It's been black out every night-- I can barely see you now, Huck!"

"I guess so." Huck said. Tom stared at him through the dark.

"This is really weird, Huck. Everyone knew you were back. Everyone. And I didn't." Tom said. "I should've known first."

"You did, Tom. You's the first one I talked to." Huck said.

"What?"

"That first talk in the woods. When I ran into ya' and you had some girl troubles."

"But that doesn't count. I..." Tom ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know what to say.

"It's 'aight, Tom. You've been preoccupied." Huck said. "And it's all done anyway. I'm here and y'all know now."

"...Why's everyone expecting me to be calm about this? You expect me to be calm. It's been five years without you." Tom said. "I should've known."

"It's alright, Tom." Huck said, taking a step closer, resting his warm hand on Tom's shoulder. "...It's all workin' out with Becky and Amy?"

"...Yeah—Yeah. Thanks to you, Huck." Tom could see the glint of Huck's eyes through the dark, and it made a swirl catch in his chest. "You really are here." Tom whispered. Huck nodded. He listened to Huck's quiet breaths, as deep and calm as his voice. Huck's hand fell back to his side.

"You've really been gone a long time... How have you been faring, out there?" Tom asked, a hand coming up to his hair. Huck sighed a breath.

"...Tom, 'f I'm honest, I ain't wantin' to talk about the past. I just wanna pick up from here." Huck said, but Tom shook his head.

"But... Five years of travel, there must've been something you wanna talk about--"

"I ain't in the mood right now." Huck said. He sat abruptly on the rough ground. "I'd rather talk about you, Tom. You seem different." Huck said. Tom met him on the ground.

"No, I don't think so. Just happy with Becky is all, Huck. If anything, it's you." Tom replied. He ran his hand through his hair, then let it fall. It landed right next to Huck's-- he could feel the warmth of their fingers together. "You've been gone so long... You, uh, seem a lot more reserved."

"Oh, nah! I'm just tired." Huck said. Tom could hear the ruffle of Huck's clothes, of him moving to lay down.

"Are you still sleeping out in these woods?" Tom asked.

"Yeah. Used to it, though."

"...You can sleep in my house, if you want. I'm sure Aunt Polly will be peachy with it." Tom looked to his laying figure. He could see the faint smile on Huck's face.

"Boy, that's a thought! But it's alright, Tom. Staring at the stars'll let me adjust to this. Being back in one place."

"Is that why you came back? A place to stop walking for a while?"

"Nah, Tom. Came back for home n' all you guys." Huck said. Tom laid down next to him and looked at the stars, too.

"You're staying?"

"Yeah. I'm sick a' running." Huck said. Tom didn't question him further-- he seemed like he'd just tell Tom off again. Maybe tell him to go home, but he just wanted to be with Huck, so Tom quieted himself.

They looked up past the trees together. Kept staring at the stars.

"Like old times." Tom said quietly. He could hear Huck shaking his head slowly.

"Better. Like these times." Huck said. He turned his head to Tom. "I don't wanna talk much a' the past, but I'll talk otherwise. I wanna get ta' know you again, Tom." Huck said, and hearing his name in that warm voice made Tom's eyes meet Huck's.

"Alright. But Huck, you already know me-- I'm the same. And I still know you. You're Huckleberry Finn!" Tom said, and Huck shook his head again.

"I ain't goin' by that no more. Just Huckleberry."

"Oh." Tom said. "Well, alright, Huck. You're still my friend no matter your name."

"Thanks." Huck said. And they went back to watching the stars.

Tom eventually got up to go home when the moon grew high and the stars seemed to be pinning themselves new holes in the sky, and he could see and feel them all up there, even the ones behind his sight. Huck was still up, staring, when he left.

"You going to school, Huck?" Tom asked.

"Yessir. I been there."

"Oh. I..." Tom sighed, closed his eyes. He missed so much.

"It's alright, Tom. I'll see you there?"

"Yeah. Bye, Huck."

"Bye, Tom."

Tom walked home, stumbling through the dark again. He felt it all so sharply on his skin-- Huck's deep and soft and tired words lingering warmly in his ears; the twigs and dirt and leaves against his feet; the night air, increasingly cold, blowing against him.

The gas lamps lit his way once he got out of the woods, and their lights were orange and sharp in his eyes like he was still at the fair.

A swirling feeling had formed in his stomach, and a tenseness was in his heart, and it stayed. It lingered as he walked home. Everyone else in town was already asleep.

He opened the front door slowly, slowly-- quietly, quietly-- and closed it just the same. He set his shoes down, and he walked through the house. Saw Aunt Polly sitting in the living room, her eyes closed. An ache came to Tom's heart, seeing her laying there, her head tilted down towards him, and so he walked to the closet and got a blanket.

"Sorry, Aunt Polly. I'll be back sooner next time." He whispered, hoping he wouldn't wake her, and set it gently down onto her. He walked away, back up the stairs, his feet cold and numbed against the worn wood. He could hardly see, but still he went up the right number of steps and turned at the right spots and reached his hand out, grabbing his room's doorknob in just the right place so that it was silent. Tom went to bed quickly, despite his unevenly rhythmed heart and the upside-down feeling in his chest.

Huck was different in some ways. It changed things. But either way, he didn't need to see that drawing anymore; he had the real Huck back.


	26. -

"...The beautiful past, the dear and lamented past..."

-Mark Twain, Autobiography of Mark Twain


	27. Chapter 27

The sun came quickly. Up through the stars and past the falling full moon, through the clouds. Making a sunset out of the blackened air. Waking up Tom as it always did-- But today, as soon as he was up, he felt awake.

He had Huck. He wouldn't be so alone in his adventures and mess-ups anymore. The duo would be reunited.

Tom got ready and left quickly for school before Sid even got down the stairs.

Out into the morning air. The same air as last night: at the fair, in the woods. A calm and new and happy feeling was in his skin. He caught up with Becky on the way and they walked together.

In class, Tom sat down next to Becky. Being able to hold her hand, to talk with her about the answers, made his stomach light.

He watched everyone come into the classroom and looked around to see if he missed anyone. If Huckleberry was here. But he wasn't, yet. Tom sat and waited. But he didn't know why his mind was so focused on Huck. Huck wouldn't want to talk about anything—certainly not what Tom wanted to talk about-- and Tom had Becky to talk to.

But then he saw at the doorway Huck's deep eyes and his smile, and Tom had to smile back because there was no way he couldn't. Huck came and sat by Tom, and his quiet presence made Tom feel more awake and buzzing. He had his friend and his girl back.

Class started. Tom glanced over and from the corner of his eye saw Huck taking notes. Saw Huck not adding in when he and Becky and Amy and other people were having conversations. Huck ignored them, only looking up at the teacher and down at his paper.

It was off-putting for Tom, and he couldn't take his focus off of it once he noticed it. Tom had always expected for Huck to mess around if he went to school. To talk and join in with not paying attention. Tom watched him, waiting for something.

Huck did look up, once. He glanced at Tom, and Tom immediately looked away, a turn in his stomach at being spotted watching him.

Tom tried to focus on his own notes and work, but he kept going back to whispering and smiling at Becky, and watching as Huck didn't. Huck's body slumped forwards at some moments, leaning over his papers. Tom could see his eyes droop almost closed and reflect the light in a different way, but then Huck would blink and straighten himself in his chair, resuming taking notes or doing work. Sleeping on the ground must not be that fulfilling.

It was like a rhythm looped, and Tom watched and watched from the corner of his eye. The whole time, Huck didn't talk to anyone. It was like something totally new. Someone completely different; the old Huck, had he ever gone to school at all, would've talked and talked and been louder than Tom. Something had happened, and Huck had changed.


	28. Chapter 28

Class ended. They all stood to go to the courtyard for break. Huck looked around, taken out of his dazed note-taking. Smiled back at Tom.

They all walked out of class and outside together, and Huck was alive again-- he was talking and smiling and walking with that big gait of his, and was the center of everyone again.

Tom looked up at the bright sky as they walked. And then his eyes drew back to the ground, back to Huck.

During break, the crowds came to talk to them. People surrounded Amy and Becky and them—they surrounded Huck. Tom reckoned that's what he saw in the corner of his eyes when he was looking for Becky and Amy those days ago. Everyone had been surrounding Huck, and Tom had been too self-involved to notice it.

More and more people showed up, and the talking was one on the other and compounding, and growing, until it was loud all around him and Tom looked around and was surrounded by people. He moved a step or two back, and people stepped to the side and took his spot. It all brought a collateral feeling of stone to his chest. He just wanted to talk to Huck; the more Tom saw him, the more confused he was about who Huck had become. In class, Huck was like a shadow, just working. Out here, he was the center of everything, and Tom couldn't even get close.

The next day was the same.

It made a shadow grow in Tom's chest. Blooming into a heap of ash, and he could only watch. Tom stood by Becky, holding her hand. She grounded him enough to stay. But still, staying meant seeing Huck be so popular, amazing, mysterious, guarded, and Tom wouldn't get to find out what's underneath that smile and those gazes he was always giving to him, because Huck was busy reuniting with the rest of town. Tom felt that pit and that buzzing deepen in him.

The days passed, and it was the same. Tom was jealous.

But no matter how he looked at Huck in class and after school, and no matter how much that feeling in him had swelled, Tom couldn't bring himself to go to the woods. He just couldn't bring himself to go any night, because it would turn to him wanting to go every night, and Aunt Polly would just stay up late for him.and he had homework, and Huck might've started staying with the Widow Douglas, and... and so it was all just too much to worry about to stop his worries and talk.

So Tom just stared and stared. And smiled and felt a weightlessness when Huck finally looked at him, and felt a pressing pounding crushing thing in him when Huck would look away again. Tom just wanted to talk to him, but there was no room to.

"Do you guys want to go to the river after school?" Amy asked one day during break. Tom felt a swirl in himself, and looked at Becky and looked at Huck.

"Yeah?" Tom asked, meeting Becky's eyes. She nodded, and Tom took and squeezed her hand.

"Sure." Huck said in that smooth low familiar voice of his. Everyone else said yes, too.

The bell for break's end went off and so they went to Mr. Dobbins' class. And it was the same as every other day before; Tom talked quietly with Becky and Amy and Joe and Ben, until Mr. Dobbins called on him again, again. And then Tom would feel a redness multiply and flash through him as Huck and everyone looked at him, waiting for a wrong answer. Sometimes he was right, sometimes he wasn't. Half the time he got struck, and Tom would try to just look at the floor at his feet, seeing all the dirt and the scratches on it from years of this. He didn't like Becky and Huck and them having to see this, but this was the usual.

Then the embarrassment would be over and he would go back up to his seat, ignoring the stings of his skin, and try to do his work like Huck always did. But he never could.

Tom waited after each class, seeing for when Huck stood up and regained his self and his brightness. The feeling that made Tom remember how he used to be. And eventually, eventually, the day was over. Tom could feel himself blink slower, and walk with more of a strut, and his steps lighten. Tom and Amy and them walked together to the river, Huck staying behind a moment to talk to the teacher.

They all talked at the river, waiting for him. Their words were quiet, and mostly they just listened to the lap of the waves.

The energy was lightened when Huck got there. It was like just seeing Huck's face, his eyes, his smile, was enough. Like hearing his voice made everyone remember how vibrant they could be, and so were.

They all sat and talked and relaxed, letting the weight of the day fall off like mud settling down in the river.

And every time Huck would look at Tom, that dirt would get churned up in his stomach, and he couldn't tell why. But Tom did notice that Huck never stared at him back.

Tom talked, and they all talked, and underneath that was this. Noticing. That Huck rubbed his hands and leaned in before he talked with that interested and interesting voice, and before he smiled. And that hardly once in all that time of Tom glancing at Huck over and over, seeing the reactions on his friend's face, had Huck looked back. It made Tom feel a depth in his stomach, and a slight cold in his arms. Becky squeezed Tom's hand over and over, bringing him back.

Tom had a quiet sigh. Why did he seem more interested in Huck than Huck was in him?

Tom was brought back again. Becky's hands were warm and soft, and he glanced down at her, smiling. Closing his eyes a moment, he turned towards the river. Maybe he could talk to Huck, soon. But right now it shouldn't matter.

They talked more. Tom could relax. He could smile and squeeze Becky's hand back and watch calmly as the sun started setting, and silver flakes spread on the surface of the river.

The day ended. They all went home.

Tom had enjoyed his time with Becky. He had felt himself lighten when Becky smiled at him and when she talked and when she laughed. He had forgotten about Huck and his habits and the one-sidedness of it all.

But then he got into bed. And the warmth of the sheets reminded him of the warmth Tom had in his stomach whenever Huck looked at him. And the feeling of Tom's hand against the bed felt like the coarseness of Huck's hands. He couldn't get away from it.

Tom sat up, thinking. He needed to solve things with his friend. He rethought the whole day now that he had time. Why had Huck never looked at him? Never really talked to him today? Maybe he's not interested in Tom at all. Maybe he's avoiding Tom, somehow.

He breathed in the old air of the house. Breathed it out. Tried to forget about everything and think about Becky instead. He should be thinking about Becky.

Recent memories trailed after the darkness and the ink and the softness of having his eyes closed in this deep night, and he could hardly sleep. He kept thinking he should be in the woods right now, looking for Huck. But still, he couldn't go-- Aunt Polly would stay up for him, and...

Tom sighed. Opened his eyes. He saw sparks in the dark air. Saw swirls in his eyes. The faintness of this sleep was worse than just staying up all night.

He gently shifted out of the covers and turned his body, moving his legs over the edge. Stepped down onto the cold floor of his room. He just had to see. Had to know.

Tom felt the ground against his tired dragging feet. He felt his way against the fragile walls of their house. Avoided the creak of those stairs once again. And with his beating heart, he could hardly hear Sid downstairs. Tom got to the bottom of the staircase and froze. Saw Sid in the kitchen, moving as quietly as Tom had. Making a sandwich.

Tom stayed frozen for a minute longer, staring, before he stepped and stepped, his feet padding across the wooden floor towards the front door. In the darkness of it, he could wait for Sid to be finished--

Sid turned quickly. Stared through the dark house, and Tom just hoped Sid hadn't seen him. His heart was the only noise in his ears, as if it was wind, just continuous. And Tom felt nauseous.

Sid looked back to what he was doing. Tom could hear the soft rubbings of a knife against bread. Tom took another step or two. Just enough to almost make it. And he could feel a shake in his legs behind the movements, as if he was about to give out. Tom continued until there were two more steps until the front door.

"So what are you doing?" Sid asked in a whisper. Tom was reaching out his hand for the doorknob. But he heard Sid's voice and just had to close his eyes a moment. Had to hold in another breath. "Tom." Another whispered breath. Tom had to sigh, had to turn around and face that brother of his. Tom felt paralyzed. "You know I have to tell Aunt Polly." Sid said, and so Tom glanced back, a dread filling him like water.

"Why?" Tom asked. Sid blinked. Tom saw the tiredness in Sid's eyes, and then Sid blinked again and it was gone.

"Because she worries about you." Sid said. "Just go back to bed." He took a bite of his sandwich. Tom shook his head.

"I have to do something. I'll..." Tom sighed and grabbed the cold door handle. He didn't want to let on that he was struggling. "I'll be back before dawn. She wouldn't even have to know." Tom said. Sid shook his head.

"Fine. If you make it to school before me, I won't tell her." Sid said. Tom felt a wave come over him, clearing away the grey embers that had started burning him down.

"Fine. I will." Tom said. "Thanks." Tom said. Sid shook his head in response.

"...She really does, though." Sid said in a whisper. Tom watched as he took his sandwich and walked quietly up the stairs, avoiding the creaks just the same as Tom.

Tom sighed. He knew that. Sid was right, and he shouldn't be sneaking out at night, but... He opened the door. It couldn't be helped-- he needed to see Huck tonight.


	29. Chapter 29

Tom kept that in his mind as he walked through the dark air. He needed to see Huck and get back quick.

Cold was in him even though the air was warm. He couldn't keep doing this to Aunt Polly. Tom walked faster. Nerves were in him, buzzing with each step, resonating through his legs to his arms to his heart.

He went to the woods, away from the streetlamps. He needed to know if Huck was avoiding him. If they weren't going to be as good friends as they used to be. Tom remembered the dip in him every time he looked at Huck and Huck didn't look back. He just needed to know that his friendship was still reciprocated.

His hair swayed into his eyes as he walked faster along rough streets. He had to get home before sunrise. He had to. Tom's steps turned quick and got lighter until it was a footstep and a footstep and more between each breath and he was running, and he couldn't see but he could feel how familiar this air was.

He stopped, panting, at the spot Huck usually was.

"Huck?" Tom's breathy voice faded into the trees around him. It was silent around his breaths, or maybe he just couldn't hear around his own pants. "Huck? Oh, tell me you're here!"

Silent. "Huck!" No answer. And still no answer as Tom sat, his legs hardly enough to hold that shaking pounding weight of the rest of him. "Man..." Tom sighed, closed his eyes, laid down.

He could feel twigs poking through his hair and snagging on his clothes, and he settled into the earth. "I came here for nothing." Tom spoke to the forest air. He noticed an ache in his chest-- he had needed to see Huck. Needed to figure out what was going on between them. But... he wasn't here. Tom breathed a sigh, and he smelled the night in the air. Smelled the scent of the forest. Felt a warmth in the air.

"For nothin'?" Huck said from the ground beside him. His voice pierced the rhythm of Tom's breaths. Tom sat up quickly, and a rush came to his head, looking around.

"You're here?" He couldn't see through the black.

"Yeah, if I ain't just a ghost, I am. Been sleeping but you barged in like a stampede." Huck said. Tom smiled, then frowned, then laid back down.

"Sorry." Tom said. He tried to get his eyes to see the branches above him, the floor below. But here there was nothing but dark and then stars. "I... I thought you might have gone to the Widow Douglas' by now."

"Well then why'd ya come here?"

"...On the chance you'd be here, I guess."

"Tom, just tell me whatcha' here for? A sleepover or somethin'?" Huck yawned.

"No, I," Tom let out a quick exhale, a laugh, and shook his head. He could feel the hard ground against the back of him. "I wanted to talk to you, Huck."

"It's the middle a' the night, Tom. We could talk any other time." Huck said, and that brought a hot rush of embarrassment to Tom's body. A hole in his stomach.

"Oh, well, I..." Tom started. Sat up, feeling a cold breeze come past him. "Huck, I... Sorry for waking you. I can go." Tom said, shifting his weight to get up on his nervous legs. He felt a soft pull-- Huck's warm grip against his hand, bringing him back to the ground beside him.

"Just tell me, Tom. I don't want ya' to go back and still stay up all night."

"Oh." Tom said. Huck let go and Tom felt the lack of warmth in his hand. Tom messed his own hair nervously. "Just... feels like you're avoiding me or something?" Tom waited for a response in the dark.

He felt it with just the silence it brought. An agreement in the quietness of their settling breaths, of their warm bodies next to each other, separated by a cold feeling. But Huck spoke.

"I ain't avoiding you, Tom." Huck said quietly. "It's..." Huck sighed. Tom could hear a rustle as Huck laid back down. "Everything's kind of different since I been back. I'm just trying to get my bearings again."

"What do you mean? I... It seems like with everyone else, you're still close. Like you're back in the swing of it. But with me, it..." Tom sighed. A hotness came to his face at saying all this. He felt a weightiness at saying all this. Like he was unsupported, in a lake without any air in his lungs to pull him back up. "It feels like we hardly talk."

"Tom, we got the woods on nights like these! We're talkin' right now."

"But it's different, Huck. This is like... Like things get too big and I can't sleep, and... This ain't talking. I haven't learned anything about you. I wanna know how you've been and what you're like now." Tom sighed.

"Alright..." Huck said. "But at the river, we all talk all the time, right?"

"But at the river and at school and stuff," Tom shook his head and breathed in, "I look at you or say something and you don't look back, and it seems like you ain't wanting to be friends again, is all."

"Tom," Huck's warm voice brought him from his thoughts. "You're reading too into this."

"Oh."

"You're all my friends. I'm just trying to get caught up with life back in town. My trip," Huck paused, and Tom could hear a rustle and a rough sliding of Huck's hands rubbing together. "It brought on a lot of change, and so... It ain't gonna be the same as before. I'm different, and so are you, and..." Huck sighed. "And you's got Becky."

"...We're still friends?" Tom asked quietly. Huck gave a quiet laugh.

"Yessir, Tom. We're still gonna be friends." Huck said. He stopped wringing his hands.

"Okay. Thank you, Huck." Tom said. The air was silent, and Tom couldn't hear the motion of Huck nodding, or moving. Just their breaths. "Sorry if I'm being irrational."

"It's aight. I, uh... I have been kinda distant. You wanna go someplace together?" Huck asked.

"I... Yeah." Tom said quick, and a smile came to his words and came to his face.

"After school tomorrow, you wanna come down to the woods?"

"Yes. Yeah, that sounds good. I been wanting to hang out for so long." Tom said, running a hand through his hair, feeling warmth through his arms and his face.

"Alright, Tom. It's a plan. Now," Huck yawned. "Go to bed? I'll see you tomorrow." Huck said.

"Thank you, Huck. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." Tom said, getting up. "Sorry for waking you up!" Tom said, making his way through the trees, a lift in his body and his steps.

"It's all good, Tom." Through the forest, he could hear Huck's warm, dark voice laugh gently.

Tom made his way back home through the woods and through lit-up streets. A smile was on his face and a softness grew in his chest at settling that. And now he could go to bed and wake up early enough to beat Sid to school.


	30. Chapter 30

He slept for a few hours. He woke up with the pre-dawn and waited for everyone at school. Huck came before everyone else did.

"Hey, Tom." Huck said, walking up to him.

"Hi, Huck." Tom smiled. "Get sleep after I left?"

"Some." Huck shrugged. "Ain't your fault, though." Huck said, wringing his hands. Tom nodded, running a hand through his hair. "How's it going with Becky?" Huck asked.

"Oh, it's going pretty well. Calmed down since we got back together. It's nice." Tom said. He saw something in Huck's eyes and couldn't place it. But when Huck looked back at him, Tom had to look away so he wasn't staring.

"That's good. I'm glad you two're happy." Huck said.

"Me too." Tom smiled. He saw Becky and the others coming. He waved, and Huck looked over to where they were, too.

"We still on for today after school?" Tom asked before they got there.

"Yeah, 'course." Huck said, and Tom nodded. The others came and they all talked. Tom felt like there was a strange feeling between him and Huck, but it felt warmer and better than feeling so distant.

School eventually started. The day went by. Huck did all of his work in class, not talking to anyone, and then at break and lunch he was so open. Every day of seeing it made Tom more interested in seeing it again.

And Tom was hardly there as Mr. Dobbins beat him and as he was called on, over and over in each of his classes. He focused on being able to talk with Huck after school. Being able to relax because he had a definite friend he could see after the day's uncomfortable, unbearable feeling. He held on to that-- after all this, he could see Huck. After turning in one assignment and realizing he forgot another, he kept thinking that. It'd be okay.

So eventually, school ended.

"Hey, I'm gonna hang out with Huck, today." Tom said to Becky as they left class. He felt uneasy, talking to her about Huck. He didn't know what she'd say.

"Oh, okay." She said. Tom nodded, relief in his chest in that split second.

They walked out to the courtyard together, and through the current of people, Huck came up to Tom. "I'll see you tomorrow." Becky said, and smiled and hugged Tom. It brought a calmness to his chest, and he realized his heart had been beating so fast. "Bye, Tom."

"Bye, Becky." Tom said, watching her leave with the other waves of people. Huck looked at him, and Tom looked back, smiling.

"Ready?" Huck asked, and his warm steady voice made Tom's heart beat a little slower. But he still didn't know why it was fast in the first place.

"Yeah." Tom said.

Maybe it was because they hadn't hung out alone in years. And Tom would find out what Huck was really like, now.

They would be by themselves, together, like old times. Old friends finally, finally reunited as they used to be.

They walked through the courtyard and left school side by side. Their shoulders hit together, sometimes, and it would bring another wave to Tom's stomach.

"You doin' alright, Tom?" Huck asked, looking at him. Tom turned and met his eyes, then looked away again.

"Yeah." Tom said, but his voice was shallow.

"You seem nervous." Huck said, bumping shoulders with him again.

"I," Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I think I am."

"Well, don't be. It's just us." Huck said. Tom nodded. His heartbeats subsided to slow pulses.

"Okay." Tom smiled, meeting eyes with Huck again. He tried to forget about the burning in his stomach until eventually it subsided. They talked and breathed and walked together through town, towards the woods. Like old times. Like how it should've been all along.

Tom and Huck walked together to the woods. Tom felt a comfort in their steps together-- in the same pace of their movements. And a calm came as they reached the edge of the trees and they weaved through them to their usual spot.

They got there and air was warm, even in the shadows of the trees. They set their bags down, and then Tom sat on the ground. Huck sat next to him.

Tom looked around, feeling breezes on his skin and feeling the hard, rough ground under him. The ends of twigs and leaves poked into his legs, and Tom leaned back onto his hands, looking up through the branches. He heard Huck's quiet breaths as he stared up, up, at the vibrant and bright blue in the sky, past the trees.

Rustling came, and Tom looked to Huck, who was moving to lay down.

Tom watched as Huck lay and put his hands behind his head as a sort of cushion; he saw as the bottom of Huck's shirt came up just enough for tan skin to show. Tom felt his breaths slow in his throat for a moment, and he looked away, up again. Tom stayed sitting.

"Why'd ya wanna hang out so bad if it's just this? Just us?"

"Uh... I don't know, really." Tom said. He stared at the sky from his spot on the ground.

"...Ain't that boring to you?" Huck asked.

"Is it, to you?" Tom asked, looking down at Huck again with a furrow in his eyebrows. Tom was having fun.

"No, but..." Huck turned his head and his eyes met Tom's. "I thought it might've been, for you." Huck said, and their eyes didn't break their connection. Tom shook his head. Tom felt a swirling in his chest again. He tried not to look down at Huck's stomach. "Alright, then." Huck said. Tom's mind was buzzing, and the seconds all stilled into one, until Huck looked away. Abruptly, Huck got up. He wrung his hands, not bothering to brush off his clothes.

"Where you going?" Tom asked. Huck turned to Tom, taking a few steps backwards. He motioned with a flick of his head backwards, towards the way he was moving. A half-smile came to Huck's mouth, and Tom stayed sitting.

"Come on, Tom." Huck said.

"What? But..." Tom looked around them. They had been sitting, relaxing...

"Tom Sawyer. Come on." Huck said. Wrung his hands again and then let them fall. "Let's take a walk."

Tom hesitated again. But Huck was staring at him, still walking backwards, and Tom felt a nervousness on if Huck walked backwards into a tree. Tom sighed, exhaling quickly.

"Alright. Alright!" Tom said, and Huck's smile widened for a moment, and Tom gave a smile back. Huck turned around and kept walking, so Tom caught up.

Tom brushed off his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. Huck had a strange sort of expression on his face-- the smile was gone and his eyes were staring at the ground, and in this second he didn't have that usual feeling of greatness-- of excitement-- that he usually had. Instead, Tom felt the bareness of being with him, like Huck had lost the display he had on for everyone.

But then Huck glanced over and saw Tom staring at him, and his eyes gained that smoky look they had when looking at Tom. And they continued like it hadn't happened.

Tom felt waves over him. Like he was under a lake, looking up at the smooth sun through the water, and he was wrapped in warmness and silence, and he was calm. Almost unthinking except for when he looked at Huck and met his eyes. Walking through the woods.

Huck had been walking slightly ahead of Tom, but now had slowed. And now they walked at the same pace, side by side, like they had been when leaving school. Bumping shoulders as they walked, slowly, slowly, through the trees. Into patches of sun with its increasing gold, and into shadowed areas where the light was spread between trees. Tom thought of Becky for a moment, and of what she was doing. But then Huck looked back again and smiled. And he forgot. And he smiled back.

It was so different here. Every so often there were squirrels and birds, and then the sound of a steamboat, but otherwise... This place had no qualities that life in town had.

Tom was surprised that in all these years, he hadn't come back here. Not until a few weeks ago. Everything had changed so much these past few weeks, few months.

They kept going through the forest, side by side. And then Tom heard Huck's intake of breath and saw his skipping steps. Huck started to sprint, then. Through the forest, and Tom halted for a moment, seeing that. Huck's his steps were so strong and sure, weaving through trees.

Tom realized that if he marveled longer he would lose him, and so he started running, too. He heard a whoop and saw Huck look back for a moment at him. Tom laughed and smiled, and the wind and breaths moved through his open mouth and his teeth, and the sun shifted warmly on his skin. His hair went into his eyes. His heart beat fast, and it was finally from the movement of his body and not just irregularities. A buzzing warmth was in his legs and his arms and his chest.

This felt right.

Tom weaved past trees that snagged on his shirt and his pants. He felt an ache in his legs from all this running, but he just ran faster, trying and trying to catch up with Huck. Another laugh breathed out of him into the warm air, and he was so close. Tom reached out and leaned forwards, running faster and continuing. Another weave in the trees, and then he was even closer to Huck; he could almost step on his heels and get tangled with him. He could almost-- Tom tripped forwards and caught and gripped Huck's arm, and they came to a stop.

Their breaths were so heavy they took up the air and filled Tom's ears. And their smiles were open and wide as they met eyes. Tom's stomach hurt from the running, the hard breathing, the laughter that was pulling up through his chest. Tom let go of Huck's arm.

"What was that?" Tom asked. He could hardly ask it. Huck shook his head, reaching his free hand out to Tom. It rested on Tom's shoulder, and Tom couldn't focus on its warmth because he had to breathe, had to get more air. They were both leaning over the ground, out of breath.

"I dunno." Huck shrugged, laughed, and Tom laughed back. "I just felt like running." Huck said. Tom looked at him. He almost got his breaths back, but now it was his heart that was out of control. Beating in his throat and his head and his ears and pulling a heat through his body.

"Alright." Tom said. He could hardly think through his words with the tiredness and the hum and blur he had now. Tom could see specks in Huck's eyes. "I," Tom took a long breath, breathing in the air like a long wind, and letting it go a few moments later. Huck stood upright again, but his hand was still on Tom's shoulder. "I haven't had that much fun in a while." Tom said.

"Me neither." Huck said. Tom's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at Huck. Huck was busy staring up through the trees.

"What?" Tom ran a hand through his hair. He felt small bits of leaves in it and pulled them out. Probably from sitting, probably from the running. How long had those been there? A heat stayed in Tom's face. "You-- you didn't have any fun on your trip?" Tom asked. Huck's hand left Tom. He wrung his hands, and a smile shortly came to his face.

"No, I did, but..." Huck sighed. "Only for part of it. But that ended and I had to move on." Huck said. Tom nodded. He heard the noises of the forest around them again, with his heartbeats subsided.

"Well, that's how I felt," Tom's eyes met his, "when you left." Tom said.

"Really?" Huck asked. And Tom nodded. They breathed together and the air gained a glow.

Huck looked at him a while and smiled. The wideness of it, the brightness of it, made Tom smile too. They stared at each other.

Huck was right in front of him. They stared at each other, and their faces were so close.

Tom could really look at him-- at those eyes, and at the sparks in them, and at the few, scattered freckles on his skin. In the forest, Tom could only hear their breaths. He could only see Huck and the specks in his eyes, familiar and full and warm like fire glowing white-yellow. The air here in this liminal place was yellow like a sunset, like a sunrise, like stars, collected.

Everything about Huck was relieving, was calming, except for the feeling Tom sometimes got in his stomach. A soft glow, a faint twinging-- Huck looked away.

Huck turned and they kept walking. Kept moving through that forest together. Until eventually the sun started setting and they could see it past the trees.


	31. Chapter 31

They had reached the ends of the forest, by the river. They could watch the sun set and could see steamboats pulling through the water, breaking and forming new lines of shining light on the surface. Huck kept walking until they were at the edge of the trees, almost to the shore, and he sat. Tom sat next to him.

The sun was golden against their skin-- Tom watched it glow against Huck's hair. Shine in his eyes like golden candles and fiery halos. It reminded Tom of a time so far away. So distant that it was hardly there, but then it was. It was right here, with the two of them. They're right here, together.

"Thank you, Huck." He said. The sun shifted its glow. The hues refracted on the water's edge. Tom looked to him-- Huck was looking back in that strange way he does. The way that reminds Tom of the swirl in his stomach. The new way Tom can't place.

"What d'you mean, thanks?" Huck asked.

"For coming here with me." Tom said. His words trailed off as Huck looked away and towards the shifting light of the sun. "This was fun. It... It's how things used to be, isn't it?" Tom said. Huck shook his head.

"It's different, Tom. It's the two of us, but... We're all different." Huck said, watching the sunset for a moment longer. Then he turned his head, smiling faintly. "Still fun, though."

Tom turned to him. "How are we different?" He asked. His voice was soft as he saw the sunset against Huck's skin. The glow of the air just surrounding him like he was the only thing the light could find. "You're always saying that but I just don't get it." Tom said.

"Well," Huck turned his head towards the river. He leaned back, letting his legs stretch and sprawl in front of him. "We're grown, now. I had me a whole adventure out there, and... Tom, haven't you noticed? I ain't the same wild boy I used to be all th' time. And you got a different aura about you, too."

"...I guess so." Tom said. They watched as the sunset spread and swelled and grew, and then as the sun submerged into the river, dulling into just yellows with a navy sky. It was almost night, now. "Well that's why I wanna hang out, even though it's just the two of us. I wanna see what's different in you." Tom smiled over at Huck.

"Did you find it, yet?" Huck asked. There was that look Tom couldn't place. Huck wrung his hands.

"Not all of it. Just the quietness you said. The parts I've seen from you in school. I'd of expected you to make a ruckus with the rest of us in class, but that's not what you do. You're different in that way, at least." Tom said. "And," Tom then stood up, looking at Huck, waiting for him to stand, too. He did, and Tom inspected him. Tom nodded to himself. Standing in front of each other, Tom had to look up to meet Huck's eyes. Tom smiled up at him. "You're a lot taller." He said. Huck laughed back, and Tom watched him happily. Huck stood up straight, too, and walked up to Tom to compare.

"Yeah, I am." Huck said, smiling, looking down at him. "You used to be taller than me." Huck leaned in, teasing. Tom nodded, remembering, smiling. A swirl was in his chest as being so close. Back then, Tom seemed so lanky compared to everyone else. Huck used to be a head shorter than Tom. Now, Huck was stocky and tall, and Tom was hardly as high as his eyes. "I like being taller." Huck said quietly. Tom felt the swing in his breaths. The warmth all around them. The quiet in the forest around their laughing voices.

"I liked being taller, too." Tom said. He stared up at Huck in the fading light.

"Well, hey, you got your turn." Huck smiled, nudged him. The conversation lulled, and Huck stepped away, and Tom wished the moment had lasted longer.

Tom looked to the river again. "You still living in these woods, right? Nothing different since yesterday, I bet." Tom asked. Huck nodded.

"Yeah. Ain't found myself a reason to go to the Widow Douglas yet." Huck said. The air was quickly darkening around them. Tom nodded, got up, and wiped off his clothes.

"Well I gotta go back now, so... If you want, you could come sleep over with me. As long as you want." Tom said.

Silence spread around their breaths. "A mighty nice offer, Tom. But... I think I'm good in these woods." Huck wrung his hands.

"Really?" Tom asked. "This ground is hard as rock, and it's just dirt! Huck, you gotta. Just for the night."

"Tom," Huck looked up at him. Smiled slightly. "You really want me to go?" He asked, and Tom nodded.

"Yeah, Huck! It's been ages since Aunt Polly's even seen you, right? She wouldn't mind at all, and you could chill with me. I still got homework to do, anyway. We could tell her you're helping." Tom said, and he could see that smile grow even as Huck shook his head, looking to the ground. "It wouldn't be no bother at all."

"Tom Sawyer..." Huck looked at him. The depth in his eyes made Tom wish he had asked this earlier. Huck closed his eyes in thought and smiled. He opened his eyes again and sighed out a breath. "You bargain like a salesman. Alright." Huck said. "For the night, I guess."

"Great! Wow, me and Huckleberry sleeping over again." Tom said, looking around the forest quickly, excitedly. A smile was on his face and in his eyes. "Let's get going. Too dark and Aunt Polly might think we're some sort of burglars." Tom said and Huck got up. "Gotta pay you back for all the times you helped me." Tom said.   
That perplexing look was in Huck's eyes the next time Tom looked to him. And Tom couldn't know how he ever felt Huck had been ignoring him. Here, in these woods together, they felt so close.


	32. Chapter 32

They walked through the deepening air back to their usual spot, and the air seemed the darkest it would get for a while. A navy filled the blankness around them.

Tom picked up his bag. He looked back, seeing Huck pick up his own bag, too, slinging it around his shoulders.

"You're really coming?" Tom asked with a smile. Huck shrugged.

"If I'm wanted." He said, and Tom nodded.

"Let's go, then. Aunt'll be waiting up for us." Tom said, and they made their way through the woods, still. They walked and walked and continued, and the sun went down and left them in stars. Together.

They walked in step with one another, and breathed in sync, and eventually got back to Tom's house. Tom opened the door and saw Aunt Polly sitting in the living room with a cup of tea, waiting up for him.

"Aunt Polly, I'm home." Tom said, taking off his shoes. Huck took off his own pair of worn-down shoes, and they both set them by the door. Huck wrung his hands as they both approached Aunt Polly.

"Hello, Tom. You've--" Aunt Polly stopped, looking to Huck. Tom glanced back at him with a smile, too, and saw an unease and wildness in Huck's eyes.

"It's Huckleberry, Aunt Polly."

"Why, Huckleberry Finn!" Aunt Polly set down her cup of tea. Tom looked over at Huck and saw the tenseness in his face at his old name, but then they met eyes and Huck just shook his head. "I heard you were back-- what brings you to our house? Oh, Tom, I haven't even had time to clean, I..." Aunt Polly turned, picking up a cloth or two and re-laying a blanket.

"It's alright." Huck said. "I ain't had time to clean myself up either." Huck said. Tom glanced over at him, slightly perplexed-- Huck wasn't the sort to wash up. Maybe it was just for show. Maybe that was another thing different.

"He'll be sleeping over, Aunt Polly. In my room so we don't bug you much."

"Oh, alright, Tom. It's good to see you after so long, Huckleberry. You look cleaner."

"And you look just the same as you did before. Thank ya' for having me." Huck said. Tom looked between their closed-mouth smiles. He thought Aunt Polly was a lot frailer, older, than before. It must've been for show, all their words. Or maybe Huck hardly remembered her.

Tom nodded and led Huck away. Up the stairs. They were silent under Tom's feet, but under Huck's, there was a creaking.

He led Huck up to his room. And Tom heard a rustling from inside of it, and saw his door was opened a crack. Tom inhaled a preparatory breath, and his steps grew heavier as he walked towards his room. He opened the door quickly, and the door continued opening and hit the wall.

"Sid." Tom said, harshly and darkly, and the combined noise from the door and his voice made Sid startle. Sid turned to face them, a book in hand. "I aughta tell Aunt Polly how often you in here. She'll sure give you a lickin'--"

"Sid, that's you?" Huck interjected. "It's been a while since I seen you, boy!" He said. Sid looked at Huck briefly then, glancing to Tom, smiled that thin crooked smile of his.

"Hey, Huck. Heard you were back."

"What are you even reading on that shelf?" Tom asked, taking steps towards him. And Sid's smile left him and he closed the book sharply, pushing it back into the bookshelf. Huck entered the room a few steps with Tom and set down his schoolbag.

"Ain't for you to know, I bet." Huck said, looking up, and Sid smiled up at him before leaving with light, scared feet, avoiding Tom and his eyes.

Sid left and closed the door behind him with a slap, and then it was just Huck and Tom in the residual silence of his room.

"Sorry." Tom said, setting down his own schoolbag. He was already walking towards the bookshelf, looking for the brown journal. He knew it wasn't the one Sid was reading, but... He took it out, holding the worn pages gently as he turned to the drawing.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" Huck asked. He walked closer, and then he was slightly behind Tom.

He could feel Huck's breaths on his neck, and the warmth of him right there, and it made Tom's face heat up, too. He ignored it, staring at the drawing. Tom gave a quick glance to Huck and then picked it up, showing him.

"I... This sketch. Joe drew you when we were all in the woods together. I ended up getting it. Remember?" Tom asked. Huck shook his head slowly.

"Nah, I don't." Huck said, and a redness came to Tom's face.

"Oh."

"But I remember plenty of other times, though." Huck said. A smile moved its way into a grin. "...I'm plenty flattered you'd keep a drawing of me, Tom."

"Yeah, well," Tom ran a hand through his hair. He puffed out a breath. "I forgot I even had it until I spotted Sid going through my bookshelf a few weeks ago. It..." Tom closed his eyes for a moment and put it away into the pages. "It really helped me out, then. With getting Becky back and things. I don't even know why, I..." Tom puffed out a breath and pushed the journal back into the shelf.

"Tom," Huck started gently, "why are y'all so harsh with each other?" He said. Tom turned to Huck, who was still right behind him, and he grew aware of his beating heart in his throat.

"I... I don't know." Tom said, and their voices had grown soft, and they were so close. Tom looked to Huck's deep eyes and away again, "It's just how it is, I guess. And he's always getting me in trouble, anyways. He-- He always goes through this bookshelf, too." Tom said. Huck shook his head lightly, and Tom looked down, running a hand through his hair.

Tom sighed.

"You always give me awful lots to think about, Huckleberry. Say," Tom took a step away from him, walking over to his bed. He swallowed in a dry breath. The warmth left him. "It's getting late. You wanna sleep?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, sure. Where should I...?" He looked around as he spoke.

"You can sleep on my bed if you want."

"Are we sharing? I ain't wantin' for you to sleep on the floor, Tom." Huck wrung his hands together, taking a step towards him.

"Well it ain't no bother." Tom shrugged.

"Tom, if I, who usually sleeps on the ground, is in a bed, then you aughta be in a bed, too." Huck said with a warmth and a fervor.

"Fine. We can both sleep on it, I guess?" Tom supplied, and Huck shrugged, wringing his hands.

"Sure." Huck said, and a quick smile came and left his face.

"Well, come on, then." Tom yawned. And so they got into bed. Tom took a pillow or two and gave them to Huck, and they got situated, opposite each other, foot-to-face. They still sat up, though, talking.

"...Thanks for this, Tom." Huck said. His voice was drowsy and deep and it made Tom's stomach swarm. Then Huck moved his foot up and it came closer to Tom's face. Tom pulled back sharply, almost falling off the bed, and his exhales of breath turned to laughs.

"Please do not." Tom said, a smile in his voice, and Huck laughed, too. Tom loved the noise. Huck moved his legs away. "And it's no problem. I'd have you here long as you want." Tom said.

"Really, though. Thanks. It's been a while since some'n actually let me crash with them." Huck said.

"I should be thanking you, Huck." Tom said quietly. He brought the blankets closer to his cold skin. "I've felt so lost, sometimes, recently. You're always helping me out, somehow." Tom said. He heard Huck rustling, moving, and looked up to see him. Huck was looking back. Their eyes swam with light in the dark room. They smiled at each other.

"Let's go to bed." Huck said. And they stared at eachother for a while longer.

Eventually, Huck let himself fall down, and his upper body met the bed again, and the whole thing shook.

"Goodnight, Huckleberry." Tom said, falling down the same.

"Goodnight, Thomas." Huck said, and they laughed again. Tom could hear in the shade of the air how Huck smiled, and that made it spread to Tom. "Goodnight." Huck said finally, and his voice was so soft and warm that Tom could only listen to it fade and melt with the air. He could only close his eyes and repeat that second in his mind until he fell asleep, because the way he said it just made Tom's chest warm.


End file.
